The Indifference Child
by PersephoneTricked
Summary: In fifth year, fighting at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione is knocked unconscious. This is the story of how she's sent back in time by three powerful sisters, to save a future from darkness and give her heart to a man who should not be able to love.
1. Prologue  The Three Sisters of Love

***DISCLAIMER***

**The following story is an unlicensed, unofficial, fictional story that takes place in the world of Harry Potter. Harry Potter and all associated content are the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling and Warner Bro., respectively. No money is being made from this publication. If any laws appear to be in violation, please contact the author of this fiction at once.**

**The highest form of flattery is imitation. **

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER***

**Because this is, in a way, a story that manipulates time, certain assumptions must be made. **

** 1) It is to be assumed that Ms. Rowling's seven books, and consequent plots, were created after the events of my story. So, basically, this means that for the purposes of my fiction, I am operating under the assumption that the books were written after the Hermione in my story traveled back in time. If she had not, Ms. Rowling's books would have ended in horror, as far as "The Indifference Child" is concerned. So, everything that was recorded by Ms. Rowling will hold true once my story is complete. This might be a confusing concept, but if you read the story, I think you'll understand what I mean.**

** 2) However, there will be memories and situations in my story that will seem to contradict some of Ms. Rowling's works. Bear in mind, though, that this occurs because, for the most part, my story will not be written from Harry's point of view. I will try to keep as close to canon as possible, although it's tricky with the whole time element. I will also try to include direct quotes from the books at the beginning of every chapter. Feel free to point out any mistakes you feel I have made.**

**The following can be considered my story's cover flap:**

**Title: **The Indifference Child**  
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**Rating: **T (for violence, gore, and adult situations)**  
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**Summary:** In fifth year, during the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione is knocked unconscious. This is the story that Harry Potter never knew - the story of a brave witch who is taken back in time by a power hidden deep within the bowels of the ministry, summoned by the heart of a girl who would do anything to save her brother, summoned to save the world from two terrible fates, and perhaps to create a heart in the soul of a monster. Placed in Hogwarts during Tom Riddle's fifth year, Hermione has no idea what to do. She is left with a strange mission by three powerful sisters, one that she does not fully understand, and parts of her memory are missing. She does not know why the presence of Tom Riddle causes her to shiver in fear, and she does not know how to return to her friends and family, but she does know that she will do anything in her power to help a young Dumbledore defeat the rising Gellert Grindelwald. Will she ever return to the Wizarding World of 1996? Will there even be a world to return to if she fails her mission?

**Pairings: **Tom Riddle Jr./Hermione Granger**  
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**Now, on with the story!**

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PROLOGUE - THE THREE SISTERS OF LOVE  
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"_There is a room in the Department of Mysteries…that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the subjects for study that reside there…" – Albus Dumbledore (OotP - pg 843)_

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A cloaked Unspeakable slowly approached a door hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries. The door looked normal, made of a plain brown wood. The handle was brass and unadorned, and the Unspeakable lowered her hood before reaching out to grasp it, revealing the head of a surprisingly young witch. In fact, she couldn't have been more than ten years of age. Waves of blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, and as her small hand touched the handle, a brilliant golden glow enveloped the hallway.

The witch's eyes were closed, but she could still feel the warmth emanating from within the room. The door slowly opened before her, and her eyes shot open with a stunning intensity to gaze at the sight before her.

The room she now entered was full of a bright, white light, which encircled her as she closed the door.

She felt strangely weightless, suspended in the glow of the light. Patiently, the Unspeakable waited. Presently, three figures emerged from the light, appearing just as she'd seen them in her dream. She could not look at the figures directly; they seemed to be made of an even whiter light than the room around her, and her skin burned in their presence.

The figure in the center spoke, in a voice that was both beautiful and terrible.

"Welcome, Ariana Dumbledore. You come to us so young, though not wholly unexpected."

The young witch bowed her head in acknowledgement of their omniscience.

"Yes, my Ladies. I have had a dream." Here Ariana paused, as though waiting for permission to continue. The three figures glanced at each other, and their smiles could somehow be felt on the luminescent air. The middle figure, who seemed to be the leader, beckoned Ariana forward.

"Come, tell us of what you have seen." A silver chair materialized in the center of the room, and Ariana boldly approached it, sitting down with a delicate grace, folding her robes neatly about her ankles.

She bowed her head once more, and then spoke. "This dream was… different, from what I normally experience. It was somehow more than just a dream… It began with my older brother, Albus, with whom I've never really gotten along with, although I love him very much. He looked older then he does now, old enough to be an adult wizard. He was standing on a cliff, and he had the most peculiar expression on his face. It was one of adoration, almost _worshipful_, and it was directed towards another young wizard who stood slightly above him, on another ledger further from the edge of the cliff.

When I saw the face of this other young wizard, I felt a deep sense of unease. I am certain I have never seen him before, but he wasn't looking at Albus. No, he was looking behind them, at a magnificent glass sphere. In the sphere, I saw flashes of the world, and scenes of seemingly unrelated people, both Muggle and magical. I believe this sphere was a representation of the world, of the earth." Ariana paused to take in a deep, trembling breath.

"The strange wizard was as focused on the sphere as Albus was on him. He reached out a hand to my brother, and Albus took it gladly, although the young wizard still did not even spare my brother a single glance. They approached the sphere together, and the expression on the young man's face suddenly grew dark and terrible. My unease spiked, and I felt a jolt of fear. He suddenly pulled out a black, thin wand and stabbed it into my brother's heart. A beam of power shot from Albus' chest into the wand, and the wizard channeled that power onto the sphere, which began to grow dark. The images inside the glass frightened me. They showed death, and blood, heartache, sadness, and despair. And still, Albus looked at the young wizard as though he were some kind of Savior, even as his power, and life force, was completely drained away, and turned into the blackest kind of magic I have ever seen.

When the entire sphere was at last covered in a mist of darkness, the power of my brother completely siphoned from his heart to the wand, the young wizard at last turned to look at Albus. And then he grinned the most horrible grin and… and he…he…" Ariana swallowed hard, and then continued bravely as the light in the shining room seemed to envelop and encourage her.

"He kissed my brother. On the lips. While simultaneously, he withdrew the wand, and Albus' blood gushed out onto the rocky cliff…And then he suddenly pushed Albus away, towards the edge of the rockface, and Albus was still looking at him so trustingly, even as he plummeted to certain death.

Then my dream, which had previously been loud with the howl of the wind, grew completely silent. The wizard was standing alone on the cliff, and seemed not to care at all when Albus fell. His attention was focused completely towards the sphere, which was slowly rolling towards the place Albus had been standing before he had been pushed off. And then, in the blink of an eye, the sphere rolled off the cliff behind my brother. Sound rushed back into my dream as the young wizard let out the most terrifying cry, and everything went dark! I was trapped in my dream for what seemed like hours, with only the desperately angry cries of the young wizard for company, and I felt certain I'd go mad with despair. It was even worse than the feeling I got from the three muggles who attacked me a few years ago, because this feeling was not just fear, it was hopelessness, almost as though I accepted that everything bad that could possibly happen would happen and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. However, I pictured Albus' face, and as my mind caught hold upon that image, I was filled with a great love for my brother, and an urgent need to somehow save him.

Finally, just as I started to wake, I saw a bright light, and as though in answer to my thoughts, it spoke to me, and told me of this place, here, in the Department of Mysteries, and that if I could find love enough in my heart, that I could save my brother and the sphere from the despair I had witnessed. The light told me how to get here undetected, and told me that I would see three figures in this room, who together held a power greater than any other imaginable. And so I have come, and I await your command. I am willing to give you all the love I possess, or anything else you may require, if you will somehow help me save my brother."

Ariana finished her tale and for the first time was able to look directly at the figures before her. She concentrated on the eyes of the middle figure, which were a magnificent red, which warmed her all the way down to her toes.

The middle figure spoke.

"We are pleased that you have come here with an open heart, young Ariana. Your words are brave, but they are also true, which is what makes them powerful. I am Commitment, and these are my two sisters, Intimacy and Passion. We are Love. We have seen that you hold a part of us in your soul, and we are honored that you would give that up for your brother.

Time is not the same for us as it is for you. The Past, Present, and Future are one moment for us. We experience all at the same instant. However, we are aware that to you, these three states are divided.

All is not well, in what you call the Future, in this moment, because of the wizard you saw in your dream. We are very powerful, but in order bring about change, we need the love that you have in your soul, because you are a creature of the earth, and bound to it as we are bound to heaven. If you give us this love, you will die, and become bound to heaven like us. However, if you give us the love in your heart, we can use that love to save your brother, and the earth, from its dark fate. With power like that found in your heart, we can help a young witch cross the boundaries of time, a young witch who will have such a capacity for love, such an unique inner strength, that your brother will be saved. We are watching her even now, and there is none other more perfectly suited for this task.

She will also be able to rectify an injustice wrought by the Sisters of Despair. A child, not yet born in your perception of time, has been conceived not out of love, but out of magic, from the false ties of Amortentia. This child is unable to feel love from, or love in return, any ordinary mortal. However, with the love of your soul placed in the young witch we have chosen, we believe that she will no longer be an ordinary mortal. She will be the only person that the Indifference child, as we have come to know him, will be capable of loving.

So your love would serve two purposes, and save the world twice, as well as your brother from a fate worse than death.

However, we must be clear: this will cause your mortal body to die in your near future, and you will no longer be bound to this earth.

Ariana Kendra Dumbledore, do you accept this way of life, and freely give unto us your heart? This world has not always been kind to you, and in all places but here and in your dreams, your mind is no longer clear. Happily, it bears mentioning that once you enter heaven, the events of your childhood which hurt you so badly will no longer be able to affect you. Your mind will be whole once more, as it was before you were attacked as a child. What say you to the terms of this covenant?"

Ariana's eyes were overflowing with tears of joy. She felt more peace and love than she ever knew existed. She knew with certainty what her choice was to be. She did not have to voice her answer, for her heart cried it for her, even as the paths of the future were irrevocably changed, and the Sisters of Love welcomed her with outstretched arms.

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Three babies were born, seemingly in the same instant, although for mere mortals, many years apart. One was a small boy, whose mother barely had time to whisper the name _Tom_ before her spirit left the world behind. The second was a bawling black-haired child who would soon bear a lightning shaped scar. The third, however, was the most significant to all the spirits who watched. It was a baby girl, already sporting damp brown curls as she rested in her mother's arms after the labor. The name on the nurse's chart read Hermione J. Granger.


	2. Chapter 1  Rescue Mission

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER***

**The following two chapters shadow the events that occur in Chapter Thirty-Four of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, entitled 'The Department of Mysteries.' It would probably benefit readers to pull out the book and follow along.  
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CHAPTER 1 - RESCUE MISSION**

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Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Ginny's head. He glanced at the topmost one…_

_HARRY POTTER_

_RESCUE MISSION_

(OotP - pg. 768)

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In the gathering darkness, six thestrals shot out of the Forbidden Forest, wings pumping in an ancient rhythm, each one bearing a single rider. They were flying quickly, passing by Hogsmeade and crossing over mountains in mere minutes.

Hermione, however, saw none of this.

Her eyes were tightly clenched as she grasped the mane of the creature she couldn't even see. Her heart was thumping wildly, replaying over the events of the past few hours, trying to make sense of the dark feeling of foreboding that seemed to linger on the outskirts of her awareness. Flashes of Sirius in some unknown danger, Malfoy, then Umbridge (that foul pink toad!), the wrath of the centaurs, and poor Grawp, who was perhaps more like Hagrid than she had originally thought, raced across her mind.

The main thought, however, that refused to be repressed, and kept surfacing despite the many other troubles that should have fully occupied her mind, was blaringly simple.

_I am flying. In the air. On an invisible beast, according to my two friends who are prone to hallucinations. Why are you so afraid, Hermione? The situation is perfectly under control._

Hermione whimpered and squeezed her eyes tighter together, clutching her knees forcibly against the thestral beneath her. The air was cold, and her fingers were getting numb, even as her fear bubbled up inside and tried to push out of her mouth in the form of a scream. Her attempt was futile as her thestral suddenly plummeted, and she heard Ginny's scream join her own as they began the mad rush to the ground, which was over as soon as it started.

As soon as she felt her thestral hit solid ground, with a surprisingly soft impact, Hermione slipped from the creature. Heart pounding, she gave a vague smile in what she hoped was the direction of the beast, then stumbled over to Ginny, knees wobbly from the long ride. The younger girl caught Hermione as Ron's thestral whizzed down to her left, also landing with hardly any sound. It was disconcerting to see Ron stumbling off of something _made of thin air_, and Hermione looked away quickly, only to be met with the sight of Harry patting his own lump of thin air. Swallowing, Hermione jumped reflexively when Harry's voice suddenly rang out in the crisp evening air.

"Come _on_!" Harry was hustling towards what appeared to be a simple Muggle telephone booth, but Hermione knew better. Fear twisted inside of her as the reality of their situation once again came crashing down. They were going into the bowels of the Ministry, which was a very illegal thing to do, and assuming that by some miracle there was no security, Hermione knew Harry would waste no time in charging ahead to wherever he believed Sirius to be.

Uneasily squashed between Neville and Luna, Hermione let Harry do the talking, and quickly took the proffered name tags from the thin metal chute where change was normally returned. Each bore the name of one of her companions, with the words "Rescue Mission" emblazoned against the bottom edge.

_People on a rescue mission, or foolish children being led into the nest of a viper?_

Hermione was prepared for either outcome.

She was instantly on high alert as the group stepped from the booth and into the Atrium, which she noted, with narrowing eyes, was suspiciously absent of security wizards. She didn't spare a glance for the statue in the middle of the spacious room, carved with primitive implication, pursing her lips angrily as she followed Harry and the others to the lifts. Her head darted from side to side, eyes never lingering in one spot too long, constantly searching for any sign of motion. She found none besides the swaying robes of Luna and Neville beside her.

The ride up the lifts was hazy, as her mind continued to spin in fast, concise circles.

"Department of Mysteries." The cool magical voice reflected Hermione's exterior as she focused on the grilles opening in front of them, opening to reveal…

…a simple black door.

Harry gazed at the door with a scary expression of triumph. He tried one final time to dissuade everyone from coming with him (didn't he realize what a waste of time this conversation was becoming?) and finally, finally moved in front of the door, which slid open as surely as if it was an automatic door built for Muggles. Although those were usually made of glass. And theoretically, should have been much more intimidating then the small door through which Hermione found herself walking. And yet, she felt the fear, palpable and metallic on the air, which seemed to be stirring as though with a winter breeze.

Ginny let out a quiet gasp from beside her, as Hermione stepped into a very strange room.

It was circular, and completely black, except for the candles around the wall which were blazing with pale blue flames. There were twelve doors, and Hermione suddenly felt as if she was back in her first year at Hogwarts, alone with Harry in a room full of potions, faced with a decision that would mean success or failure. The room felt remarkably like a test.

Hermione heard a rumbling sound a scarce second before the walls started spinning. She grabbed Harry's arm as they spun faster and faster, blurring into a single black-and-blue mass. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to stop the nauseating feeling that was making a bid for her sanity.

Slowly, as she heard the others talking around her and the rumbling noise fading into mere memory, Hermione realized that the walls must have stopped spinning, and she opened her eyes.

Dismayed, she quickly recognized that the spinning had served at least one purpose; it was no longer possible to tell which door they had used to enter. There must be some way to mark them, though, if they were going to make a habit of twirling around like children. Hermione didn't fancy being stuck in the Department of Mysteries for any longer than necessary. She cast another careful glance at the doors around them. All were the same, no handles, black, plain, and undeniably foreboding…

"-need to get out till we've found Sirius - " Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of Harry's voice, instantly worried that he would try something foolish.

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione exclaimed forcefully, attempting to fix Harry with her most threatening _I'm right and don't you dare disobey me _stare.

He didn't reply, but he also didn't start calling out for his godfather, which Hermione took to be a good sign. She listened as he described his dreams to Ron (Harry sounded rather uncertain about them, which worried her), but also tried to think of a way to mark the doors so that the spinning wouldn't be a problem later. She was trying to remember a story she'd once read about a magic tinderbox and a saucer-eyed dog, when Harry abruptly went up to one of the black doors and pushed it open.

"He's a bit too enthusiastic to die, don't you think?" Ginny muttered, for Hermione's ears only, and despite the fact that it was a rather morbid joke, Hermione grinned. Her grin turned to a look of amazement as she stepped into the next room along with her friends.

Hermione _knew_ what the room was instantly, having read about it in fourth year when she had been trying to find a way for Harry to stay underwater in the Triwizard Tournament. Her heart began to beat a painful rhythm against her chest, and she sucked in a breath of air as her eyes took in the sight of the enormous tank on the far wall.

A special spell had been cast upon the brains in the water, making it possible for them to function without bodies and without air. As far as she knew, though, these brains were locked safely away in the dungeons of Azkaban. It was not wise to casually keep the knowledge of the insane.

She heard Ron thinking aloud, wondering what the brains in the tank were. They looked slightly like jellyfish, but without legs.

"Aquavirius maggots!" Hermione winced at the sound of a high-pitched, excited Luna. "Dad said the Ministry were breeding – "

"No." Hermione shook her head, partially in exasperation, and partially to hide the shaking from the rest of her body. The Insanity Brains were not items to be taken lightly. "They're brains."

"_Brains?" _ Ron repeated incredulously.

"Yes…" Hermione responded, her brain whirling, trying to think of a reason the Ministry would be studying these brains that didn't have to do with disembowelment or inverted eyeballs, and other similar forms of torture. She drifted closer to the tank, until only a single pain of magical glass separated her from the brains. "I wonder what they're doing with them?"

Hermione was snapped out her trancelike state by the look on Harry's face. He looked grim, and determined, and obviously didn't recognize the brains from his dreams. Right then. There would be time to think about the brains, and more importantly, what use _the Ministry_ had with them, later. After they'd gotten out of this mess alive, and hopefully with all essential body parts still attached.

Harry led the group back to the circular room, and suddenly remembered the spell she had been trying to recall earlier. She stopped Luna from shutting the door to the Brain Room just in time.

"_Flagrate!_" Hermione made an X shape with her wand and was gratified to see a flash of fire mark the door.

Pleased with herself, Hermione watched the door shut and the instant spinning of the walls. That was one problem taken care of, then.

"Good thinking," said Harry happily as he moved them to another unmarked door.

Ginny grasped Hermione's hand tightly as the group entered yet another strange room.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she took in the room before them. It was a stone amphitheatre, leading down to a beautifully raised dais. The architecture was reminiscent of Ancient Rome, complete with a stunningly domed ceiling and an arch in the center of the dais that still managed to look regal, despite the large crack running through the stone.

Hermione stopped thinking about the architecture of the place when she felt Harry step towards the dais, clearly fascinated by something. Hermione followed his gaze to the swinging veil which hung down from the archway, and her stomach gave a lurch of uneasiness. There was something unnatural about that veil…

"Careful!" she said quietly as her friend drew closer to the dais. The feeling of unease in her stomach mounted, and began to reach epic proportions. "Let's go," she cried, in what she hoped was a convincing tone. "This isn't right." Understatement of the century. "Harry, come on, let's go…" He wasn't listening. She started to panic. "Harry, let's go, okay?"

Harry did not step away from the veil, seemingly transfixed by its' gentle sway. Hermione's feet felt frozen to the ground in fear as her other friends gingerly approached the dais to examine the veil for themselves. Harry's head was cocked to the side, as though listening to something, although Hermione could hear nothing but the increasingly rapid beat of her heart.

She felt dizzy for a moment, until Luna's voice penetrated through her terrified haze. "There are people _in there_!"

The only thing that was more powerful that fear for her own safety was fear for the safety of her friends, all of whom were acting like a bunch of hypnotized idiots. Hermione was not going to let their mission be ruined by a creepy piece of beckoning material.

"What do you mean, _'in there'_ ? There isn't any _'in there,' _it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there – Harry, stop it, come away-" She had finally worked up the courage to approach the dias, and she yanked on Harry's sleeve. She needed to get them out of there. _Fast._ So she said the one name she was sure would get Harry to pay attention.

"We are supposed to be here for Sirius!" Ginny glanced up at her, and suddenly seemed to become aware of the dangerous potential wielded by their current situation.

Harry finally seemed to come to his senses, and Hermione wasted no time in dragging him and the others out of the horrid room.

She marked the door to the Veil Room with an angry _Flagrate _ and a fierce glare, before turning around to lecture her friends as the walls began their familiar spin once more. However, she was distracted when Harry pushed against another door and, unlike its' fellows, it did not budge. Raising an eyebrow, Hermione shoved her way past her hopeless friends (whom she was beginning to think were Crabbe and Goyle under Polyjuice Potion) and cast a quick Alohomora on the door. Nothing happened, which only served to add to her increasing frustration.

Harry pulled out the knife Sirius had gifted him with and Hermione felt a flare of hope that was quickly extinguished when the blade simply melted away upon contact with the door.

"Right, we're leaving that room well alone." Hermione tugged her friends away from the door, casting a subtle, purple _Flagrate_ to mark it as sealed.

Annoyed by Neville's nervous laughter, which seemed to be in response to some comment she had made (Hermione wasn't really paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth at this point), Hermione almost missed the quiet excitement of Harry's next statement as he opened yet another black door.

"_This is it!" _

Hermione stepped forward into the new room and felt her jaw drop to the floor.

She had been there before.


	3. Chapter 2 It's Time

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER***

**Again, it would probably benefit readers to follow along with Chapter Thirty-Five of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. This is that same chapter, from Hermione's perspective. I love it! It's so cool to notice all of the little details in that section. I've tried to incorporate a lot, and I've added some of my own as well, so on with the show!  
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CHAPTER 2 - IT'S TIME**

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The jet of red light flew right over the Death Eater's shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hourglasses. The cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, then sprang back up onto the wall, fully mended, then fell down again, and shattered-_

_ (OotP – pg. 790)_

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It was the room Professor McGonagall had taken Hermione to when she'd had to return the time turner at the end of third year. In her mind, she'd dubbed it the Time Room.

Clocks.

They were everywhere, on the ceilings, on the walls, even built into the floor, some sitting on desks, and others stuffed away in corners; the sheer bulk amount was striking, especially because the scene was illuminated by a light that could be classified as just shy of blinding. Hundreds of glass time turners glistened behind crystal cabinets, and they seemed to be winking furiously at her, even as the clocks seemed to move to obscure them from view.

And the noise! Hermione's ears were filled with tickings of all different pitches and volumes. A small cuckoo clock to her left seemed trained to release a miniature dragon every thirty seconds, and the flapping of its wings made a terrible grinding sound.

Hermione's hands were covering her ears, so she couldn't hear what Harry was saying, but he seemed to be gesturing towards the far side of the room, and he looked rather excited. For an instant, Hermione was torn between wanting to explore the room more (which she knew contained many fascinating articles, some not even invented yet) and following her best friend. A memory of Sirius in his animagus form, with his tongue lolling adorably out the side of his mouth flashed through her mind, and she instantly felt ashamed for wanting to dawdle.

Still, in her defense, with the possible exception of Harry, everyone seemed to be having the same inclination. Ginny was examining a large bell jar that seemed to be the source of the brilliant white light. Hermione stared at it in fascination as Harry whisked them all by. It seemed to be displaying the life cycle of a hummingbird; beginning with the egg, and ending in death, only to be born again. It was oddly reminiscent of Fawkes, the phoenix.

"This is it!" Harry said agitatedly, sweeping a hand through his messy black hair. He seemed to have forgotten they were there as he approached, surprise, yet another black door.

Hermione shared a worried glance with Ron. She knew he was thinking about the dream Harry had shared with them. She was unsurprised when the room they stepped into was covered in shelves of dusty glass orbs, lit dimly by more blue candlesticks.

_Yes, so this is the right room then. Didn't Harry say he walked down to row ninety-seven? And here's fifty-three, and if that's fifty-four…_

"We need to go right, I think," Hermione nudged Harry, who seemed to be temporarily frozen at the sight of his dream, real and tangible before them. He whispered that they should get out their wands, and Hermione noticed that her hand was shaking as she held her wand aloft, reading the row numbers. The silence was menacing, and Ron's face was so pale that his freckles stood out like drops of blood.

_Morbid thought, Hermione, you need to focus…focus…_

"Ninety-seven!" she whispered, steering the group down one of the darker rows. Hermione gulped, and she suddenly felt certain that Sirius was not there. They were walking into a trap.

Ginny looked at her, wide-eyed, as though seeking comfort, and Hermione squeezed her hand before stepping up to Harry. He had a crazed glint in his green eyes, and for a moment Hermione was certain he'd gone mad, looking up and down the row, and even over into the next one. She noticed the mounting uneasiness of the others, but everyone looked to afraid to approach Harry while he was like this. Even though fear was holding her in a viselike grip, Hermione tentatively reached out.

"Harry?" she whispered, as gently as she could.

"What?" he practically growled at her. Hermione jumped back a bit before voicing the fact that no one else seemed willing to tell him.

"I… I don't think Sirius is here." Hermione watched despairingly as her words took effect. Harry's shoulders slumped, and all the fight seemed to leave his body. He looked like a lost, desolate little boy. Hermione shuddered and glanced back at Ron. She was surprised to see he was paying hardly any attention to the conversation, and she observed as he curiously raised the lightened tip of his wand to one of the small glass orbs on the shelf.

Each orb glowed with its' own light, and at any other time, Hermione would have been eager to find out more about them. But the twisting in her belly was making itself known once more, and the menacing darkness of the room seemed to be looming ever larger. She was snapped out of her terrifying thoughts when she saw Harry reach for one of the glass orbs.

_What was he thinking!_

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it!" she ordered forcefully, but Harry just scowled, and her advice went unheeded, even when Neville put in his uncharacteristically bold agreement.

"It's got my name on it." And before she could yank his hand away, Harry had grabbed the orb. Hermione held a hand up to her mouth to stifle a scream as the tension suddenly mounted, and she huddled with the rest of the group around the orb, just as a clear, dreadfully familiar voice cut through the darkness.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me." Hermione's head snapped up to meet the cruel gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy. He sneered at her, and held his hand up towards Harry.

Death Eaters were coming out of the shadows, and Hermione counted at least twelve, cataloguing their shapes and trying to figure out who they were. One of them at least was obvious, and Hermione cringed as she heard the mocking tones of Bellatrix Lestrange.

They seemed to want the orb.

_But why? And if they were already here, lying in wait, why didn't they just get it for themselves?_

Hermione's mind was racing.

_Maybe Harry is the only one who can take it off the shelf? But why would that be the case? Because it had his name on it, possibly. _

Hermione saw Harry raise his wand, and mimicked him along with Luna, Ginny, Neville and Ron. The Death Eaters tensed, and something felt off.

_Why aren't they attacking? Unless… what happens if the orb breaks? If they've been ordered to bring it back to Voldemort, he'd want it whole. Judging by Lucius' slip of the tongue, it's some kind of prophecy. If that's the case, then that little orb is the only thing keeping them from killing us! We've got to use it to get out of here, somehow…_

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt." Lucius' voice was tense, and although Hermione could tell he was trying to project authority, he failed to mask the faulty tremor that signaled his fear.

Harry started laughing, and Hermione turned to gaze at him in horror.

"Yeah right! I give you this prophecy, is it, and you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" Hermione let out a tiny whimper and Ron covered his eyes with his hands briefly. Harry's temper always made a showing at the least opportune moments.

Bellatrix snarled, and made an attempt to _Accio_ the prophecy, but Harry managed to hang on to it, though just barely. Lucius began yelling at her.

"I TOLD YOU NO! If you smash it, there will be hell to pay, you hotheaded fool! Our Lord made himself quite clear on that matter. This is my mission, and I'll not see it failing simply because a little _bratling_ causes you to lost control!" Hermione and the others watched with wide eyes as Bellatrix smoothed down her robes, and her eyes, beneath the dark black of her Death Eater's hood, flashed in anger at Lucius. However, she must have realized he had a point, because she held down her wand and slowly approached the small group huddled around the edge of shelf ninety-seven. Her steady prowl reminded Hermione of Crookshanks when he played with mice in the fields behind her house before pouncing. It was the stalk of a predator.

"Take the smallest one." Hermione, taken aback by Bellatrix's tone, looked over at Ginny's whitened face, and she instinctively clutched the young girl, shielding Ginny with her body. Ron, Luna, and Neville moved to do the same. Harry stood frozen, as though he could not quite believe what Bellatrix had just said.

"Let him watch while we torture the girl. I'll do it." Hermione couldn't tell, because of the Death Eater's mask and hood, but she would have bet her last galleon that Bellatrix was smiling.

Harry stepped in front of Ginny protectively, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was seething. An angry Harry was far worse than a frozen Harry, and Hermione saw Ron place a hand on Harry's shoulder, as though to stop him from doing something stupid.

_Yes, because that's been __**so**__ effective in the past. Although really, I shouldn't be criticizing Ron. At least he's trying to help the situation, instead of just standing around with his mouth open, like me._

Hermione closed her mouth and allowed her mind to drift back to the conversation in time to hear Harry talking about Voldemort.

"Did you know he's a half-blood too? Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle – or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?" Hermione whimpered, unable to believe Harry had dared to say that, even as a flicker of curiosity caused her to consider his question. Pushing it to the back of her mind to analyze later, Hermione decided she was done with the whole damsel-in-distress act.

Just then, Malfoy intercepted a spell of an enraged Bellatrix, and a few of the glass orbs fell to the floor. Hermione watched in fascination as figures emerged from the broken glass, speaking words that were hardly distinguishable above the sudden roaring noise of the furious Lucius Malfoy, although for some reason a few of the words found their way Hermione's ears where they burned like a brand.

"…_will come a new triumph, wrought by… Sisters of Despair, a child… indifferent to this…" _ Hermione glared desperately at everyone around her, forgetting for a moment where she was, so intense was the need to hear those words, but the ghostly wisp of the man who had been speaking diffused into a gray gas upon the air. She heard another thin voice, and turned her attention to a similar wisp of air, this one a woman, who was also speaking softly. Hermione strained to catch the words as they fell from the mouth of the ghostly woman.

"_and none will come after, because his glory is our despondence, his joy, our terror… unless she comes, and come she will, to fill…"_ Someone stepped on her toes, and Hermione blinked. She had been so focused on the shattered glass of the prophecies that for a moment it felt like coming out of the _Imperius_ curse, and it took the young witch a moment to recollect her bearings.

Someone stepped on her toes again, and Hermione realized that it was Harry, and that he was trying to get her attention.

_Perhaps he has a plan?_

Hermione was filled with a sudden hope. They could still make it out of here alive.

"What?" she whispered urgently, barely moving her lips, praying that none of the Death Eater's had heard. Harry's spoke out of the corner of his mouth, and it was all she could do to catch his desperate plea.

"Smash shelves." Hermione hurried to convey the message to the others, whispering discreetly, feeling them gather more tightly around Harry. She reached out her hand and directed each of their wands towards a different expanse of shelf, then held up her hand in a waiting gesture, as the group collectively tensed for Harry's signal.

"Use _Reducto_." Hermione hissed, a scarce second before Harry yelled out a frantic "NOW!" and suddenly the shelves were exploding all around them, and orbs were crashing to the ground to break into thousands of tiny glass shards. Death Eaters were cursing and swearing, and Harry was screaming that everyone should run.

Hermione felt Harry's hands grab her robes, dragging her forward straight into the midst of the Death Eater's, creating a path for his friends.

"Go!" Hermione cried, as Ron, Ginny, and Luna raced past. Harry faltered beside her and she saw Ron look back desperately. "GO RONALD!" she roared, not even sparing time to see his reaction before turning back to find Harry being grabbed by one of the burlier Death Eaters.

"_Stupefy! _"Hermione yelled as she fiercely yanked Harry out from the Death Eater's grasp, and shoved him in front of her, leaning back to catch Neville's sweat-slicked hand.

"Come _on_, Neville, we've just got to make it back to the Time Room -" Hermione dragged Neville along behind her as she struggled to keep up with Harry's longer stride.

Hermione felt something cold _whiz_ by her head, accompanied by a Death Eater's angry cursing. His voice had been uncomfortably close behind her, and her breathing became even faster as he legs pumped furiously.

Harry's shoes were pounding on the hard marble floor, and spells were shooting in all directions, as the trio raced back towards the entrance. The towering shelves seemed to be closing in, and Hermione could hear the muted whisperings of hundreds of broken prophecies as more _Reductos_ were aimed at the shelves to their left. With an extra burst of speed, Hermione and Neville caught up to Harry, and Hermione felt her heart soar when she saw how close they were to the door. Just a little farther…

Hermione pelted through the door, at breakneck speed, Harry just ahead of her, Neville on her heels. Harry slammed the door shut and Hermione raised her wand.

"_Colloportus!_" she wheezed, clutching a stitch in her left side, and breathing hard.

"Where are the others?" Harry questioned, panting as he bent over with his hands on his knees, head resting on the sealed door.

Panic gripped Hermione as she remembered pushing Ginny, Luna and Ron ahead of them. She whirled around the room, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"They must have gone the wrong way!" Hermione desperately raised her wand again, ready to reopen the door and plunge back into that awful room, but she was brought up short by the sound of voice just on the other side. She started shaking, and her face whitened as she turned to Harry for guidance.

"Let's get away from this door." She felt Neville nodding in agreement besides her, and they both found themselves once again running after Harry, who seemed to be making more of an effort to keep quiet. They ran past the shimmering bell jar and Hermione felt something strange tug at her navel. The feeling persisted, growing in intensity as they sprinted towards the far door.

Hermione heard a yelled _Alohomora_ from behind them and quickly ducked beneath a desk, the sudden movement causing the strange feeling in her stomach to disappear.

The next few moments happened in quick succession. As Death Eaters raced into the room, Hermione started flinging curses. She paled as she saw a flash of green light emerging from a wand point directly in front of her, but the wand suddenly fell to the floor as Harry tackled its' owner, and Hermione rushed to another desk. She aimed a _Stupefy _at the nearest Death Eater, which missed as Neville cast a desperate _Expelliarmus._ Hermione winced, horrified, as Neville's spell caused Harry's wand to fly out of his hand, back towards the door that led to the prophecies. The Death Eater, Harry, and Neville instantly began running after Harry's wand. Hermione dodged a curse from yet another Death Eater and hurried to follow the boys.

A second curse from Neville's wand caused a cabinet of time turners beside her to burst, and Hermione was showered in a deluge of shimmering glass, which left small bloody cuts all over her face. For a moment, she heard a clear voice ring in her head.

"_Hermione. It is time."_ She felt her navel give another strange tug, and Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts and refocused on the people in front of her.

The Death Eater up ahead stooped next to the glittering bell jar and Hermione saw her chance.

"_Stupefy!" _she cast again, and was satisfied to see the red light zoom out from her wand and hit him squarely in the chest, causing the Death Eater to tumble backwards into the jar with the hummingbird. His head lodged itself firmly within the jar, which to Hermione's surprise seemed to give way like melted plastic.

Hermione turned away from this distracting sight and ran towards Harry and Neville. She squinted and could just barely make out Harry's wand resting against a clock in the far corner.

"_Accio Wand!"_ Hermione commanded, tossing the wand to Harry after it flew straight to her waiting hands. "Now come on!"

Harry started after her, with a quick thanks, but they were interrupted by a shocked squeal.

"Look out! Head is…blimey, it's…" Hermione stared at the grotesque sight Neville was pointing at.

The Death Eater was walking towards them, and where his head was still ensconced within the bell jar, now mask-less, a most unnatural transformation was taking place. His face was aging rapidly, a thick white beard was growing from his head, and he started to look even older than Dumbledore, on the verge of death, and then suddenly his head was shrinking, become tinier and tinier as his features once again became young, and suddenly Hermione was looking at the face of a very ugly, very angry baby. And then the process repeated itself, and suddenly she was looking at an old man again, and then a baby, and then –

"_My dear, it is time. Time for you to come with us." _ Hermione heard the voice again, and the tiny shards of glass still embedded in her cheek pricked sharply when she looked at the Death Eater once again. She felt the truth of the voice shoot through her being, leaving her feeling warm and breathless as her brain raced to make the connection she knew was just beyond her grasp.

"It's time." She repeated aloud, looking at the room around her, feeling the tug at her navel once again. Her hands started shimmering, and she gazed at them in shock, then dawning comprehension as she recognized the feelings she had first experienced back in third year.

"Time!" she spoke quietly, and she felt something, a _presence_, nod, and suddenly that voice was back in her mind.

"_Yes, sweet girl, it is time. We must take you now."_

"Not now!" Hermione yelled desperately, glancing around to see that Harry and Neville had recovered from the shock of the Death Eater's transforming head. Harry was raising his wand to curse the staggering man, and Hermione found herself grasping his arm, feeling the sudden urge to get him as far away from the room as quickly as possible.

_Just give me a second! _She pleaded with the voice inside her head. She thought she heard a light chuckle in response.

"Harry, you can't hurt a baby!" Hermione said the most ridiculous thing she could think of, just to make Harry get a move on. She had to go; the voice was still calling her, and she'd be damned if she left before getting Harry and Neville out of the room.

Harry took the hint and began running again, making a quick dash to a small doorway to their left when a second pair of Death Eaters burst into the Time Room. Turning to seal the door behind them, Hermione was caught off guard by two raised wands.

"_Impedimenta!_" The Death Eaters cried, and she was knocked to her feet along with Neville and Harry. Dizzy, she lurched to the ground, just as one of the Death Eaters began to raise the alarm.

"WE'VE GOT HIM! IN AN OFFICE OFF-"

"_Silencio!" _Hermione's voice was, shaky, but her spell hit its target, even as the second Death Eater stepped forward furiously.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Harry's voice rang out from behind her as the second Death Eater collapsed at her feet. Relieved, Hermione turned to her friend.

"Well done, Ha-" she began, until a sudden pain hit her in the chest. Hermione looked behind her to see a stream of purple flame still streaming from the wand point of the Death Eater she had silenced, straight to a bloody hole in her chest.

She felt herself crumpling to the ground as pain contorted every muscle of her body. Just before she blacked out, she felt a warm hand grip her arm and the voice in her mind spoke again.

"_We really must be going now. Come along, sweet girl."_

And then waves of darkness clouded her vision as the tiny cuts from the time turners burned all over her body, and the pull at her navel successfully tugged her away.


	4. Chapter 3 Reality Upended

***AUTHORS NOTE TO THE READER***

**The following chapter contains many characters that are not central in J.K. Rowling's novels. However, all of them have been mentioned by her, in some way or other, throughout the course of the seven books, in her notes, and in interviews. Where first names were not provided, I have taken liberties. If anyone wants more information about a particular character, drop me a line, and I'll try to help. Alright, on with the story again!**

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* * *

CHAPTER 3 - REALITY UPENDED  
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* * *

_Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting...Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History."_

_It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens._

_(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - pg. 87)_

* * *

Antonin Dolohov tried to drop all emotion from his face as he felt the eyes of Professor Dumbledore sweep over him. He suppressed the desire to gulp, which would be a dead giveaway. Tom didn't gulp.

He glanced up at the broad ceiling of Hogwart's great hall. It was charmed to look like the sky outside, on the vast grounds. Tonight, it was overcast, although a few stars still determinedly twinkled through the thick white of the cloudy haze. It managed to calm Antonin, as it always did. Hogwarts was special that way.

He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking another swig out of the bottle Tom had provided, and then grimacing as he wiped his mouth.

_That stuff is vile._

Antonin was so intent on _not _looking at Dumbledore that he almost didn't notice the boy approaching the Slytherin table to stand by his side, a broad, charismatic fellow who sported an auburn ponytail. When he spoke, it was with a light French accent.

"Hello, Riddle. Do you mind if I sit here?"

It took Antonin a moment to realize that Rousset was addressing him. He nodded wordlessly, as he had seen Tom do on several occasions, and hoped that it looked natural.

Rousset didn't seem to notice anything was off, and Antonin breathed a silent sigh of relief before listening in on the conversation Rousset had started with some of the other Slytherins.

"- makes two empty spots on the team, right Malfoy? Reckon Rosier'll actually go to tryouts this time? I heard him saying something about it on the train." A boy with a cruel face and a square jaw, sitting next to Rousset, was speaking eagerly and looking at the student just across from them, who was contemplating the question thoughtfully. The boy being addressed was pale, with a slightly pointed chin and quite strange hair (it was gold on one side of his part and silver on the other), and he rested his chin in his hands before replying.

"Possibly. If I were you though, Avery, I think I'd be more worried about Dolohov in terms of competition. He would probably be your most challenging rival for Chaser, and there's only one Chaser spot open, assuming Orion and Cygnus make it in. Everyone knows Slughorn wanted to have the ban lifted last year to let them play, even though they were only firsties. I'd say they're pretty much guaranteed those Chaser spots. Don't you agree, Red?"

Rousset grinned at his nickname before replying, "Yeah, from what I've seen, Dolohov's pretty decent around a Quaffle. He's got a nice strong throw."

Avery, the boy with the thick neck, scowled, and then looked around the table. The trickle of students entering the Great Hall was diminishing, and Professor Dumbledore, decked out in bright magenta robes for the Sorting Ceremony, was just placing the Sorting Hat on a little stool before the teacher's Head Table. Avery craned his neck as if searching for something, and Dolohov suddenly felt nervous as he realized what was about to be asked.

"Where is Dolohov, though? Come to think of it, I never saw him on the train. Any idea what he's up to? Maybe he finally switched to Durmstrang, his mum's been bothering him about that for ages."

Rousset twisted around to scan the other tables, and Malfoy actually stood up, shading his eyes with one hand. Internally, Dolohov groaned. He was going to have to say something. Blast it all, Riddle has hoped his absence would go unnoticed, at least right away.

_Avery, I wish you would just let it go for once. C'mon mate, just get distracted by something, anything_,_ anything at all_ _and I'll kiss you and pledge my loyalty forever, just c'mon Avery!_

Unfortunately, Antonin's silent plea went unheard (as silent pleas are wont to do), and Rousset turned to him.

"Riddle? Have _you_ seen Dolohov at all?" Antonin paled, and hoped it wasn't noticeable. He couldn't hide behind his normal curly bangs, because stupid Riddle had to convince him to do this stupid Polyjuice parade and now he was in stupid Riddle's stupid body.

_Alright, so he's not actually stupid. Still, damn Riddle and his knack for getting me into these awful situations. _

Antonin sighed, trying to look as carefree and indifferent to the situation as possible.

"I think his family has been vacationing in Greece. I believe he may have mentioned the possibility that he would miss the start of classes in his last letter."

When Antonin spoke, it was strange to hear Tom Riddle's silky voice come out instead of his own rough baritone.

Emorois Avery opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off when Abraxas suddenly spotted something that got everyone's attention.

"Look over there!"

Antonin, glad of the distraction (and the fact that the spotlight was no longer on his apparent absence) glanced over to where Abraxas was pointing, at the first-years streaming through the door. He noticed immediately what his friend was referring to, or more accurately, who: a tall brown-haired girl towards the back of the group who was obviously not a first-year.

"Who's that?" Avery asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I dunno, there were too many people blocking me when I tried to get a better view." A deep, rumbling voice suddenly contributed to the conversation. Avery jumped in surprise when a broad-shouldered, greasy haired boy joined them at the table, but Antonin merely gave the newcomer a slight Riddle-ish nod.

Abraxas delicately raised a brow in question.

"Had to use the loo." The newcomer said by way of explanation, tossing his dirty hair over one shoulder.

Abraxas shook his head in what could only be described as fond exasperation.

"Rookwood, you are a riot. You'd go to the loo in the middle of the World Cup, I swear."

Rookwood gave a deep chuckle, and let the comment slide.

"If she's a transfer, I wonder what year they'll put her in." Emorois had abruptly gone back to the subject of the girl among trailing behind the nervous-looking first-years.

"I'll be more interested to see what house they put her in. She's not a bad looker, eh?" Abraxas had also turned back to look towards the girl, who was slowly approaching the Head Table with the first-years.

Her face was quite white, but Antonin couldn't tell if this was because she was scared of if she was just naturally pale. Her curly brown hair was sort of bushy, but it somehow suited her. The first-years made her look taller than she actually was. She was wearing the traditional Hogwarts robes, and her posture was excellent, although Antonin didn't miss the clenched fist that belied the rest of her poised exterior.

The rest of the Slytherin boys were also studying her critically.

Rousset apparently liked what he saw, because he threw her a lecherous grin when the girl made the mistake of glancing their way. She blushed prettily, but tilted her head higher, and stared straight ahead for the rest of the short journey to the Sorting Hat. Her profile flickered in the light of the floating candles, and Antonin felt a brief surge of approval at the way she refused to cower despite her obvious embarrassment and the stares of more than half the Hall. Tranfers were rare, but it not unheard of.

"Awww, Red, don't scare her off!" Rookwood reached over and clapped a large hand on Rousset's shoulder. Rousset shoved it off with a grin.

"She'll come around. You're just jealous, because you know all the ladies love a Frenchman. Especially a particular Monsieur Lestrange." To demonstrate his point, Rousset winked outrageously at a fourth-year Slytherin. She winked back, and blew him a kiss.

Antonin chuckled, and was again startled by the sound of his voice that-wasn't-his-voice. This immediately made him nervous, and he surreptitiously tried to spot Riddle. He wasn't sure what the plan was, and it was highly likely that Tom wasn't even in the Great Hall.

If Riddle wanted to do something that couldn't be traced back to him, he'd picked the perfect opportunity. No one would be patrolling the castle during the Welcoming Feast on the first night of the school year, not even old Pringle, the sadistic caretaker.

Antonin's train of thought was interrupted as Professor Dumbledore began the Sorting Ceremony with an exaggerated flourish.

Antonin was briefly caught by the professor's eyes for the second time, and a shiver went down his spine.

_Does he suspect me? The potion isn't wearing off, right?_

Antonin took another drink from the bottle and looked up at the ceiling again, but this time not even the brave twinkling of a few solitary stars brought him the comfort he sought.

* * *

Hermione was standing in line with the first year students of Hogwarts, 1942. She felt very strange. The entire situation was incredibly surreal, to be seeing the same school she'd attended for the past five years. It was all so familiar, and yet foreign, just like the faces that blurred together as she tried to wrap her mind around it all. Her life had always made sense, a lot of sense. It was undeniable that it also held a great deal of danger, and was increasingly unpredictable, but Hermione had somehow always managed to make sense of things regardless.

The moments that had led up to her current situation had, to put it lightly, turned her world completely upside-down.

Her eyes turned to the Sorting Hat as it began a clever ditty, and Hermione let her eyes close as she remembered all that had happened since getting hit by that foul Death Eater's curse in the Department of Mysteries, starting with the moment she had been taken from her crazily sensible world, and placed into this maelstrom of elusive reality…

_Hermione felt cool metal against her cheek. She drowsily began to open her eyes, and immediately groaned as light flooded her vision. She closed her eyes tightly and pulled the covers over her head. A light chuckle reverberated through the room and memories came flooding back._

_Black doors, blue-flamed torches, clocks (so many clocks!), a room of shelves, and a bright purple light that caused pain to blossom like a bloody flower in her chest…_

_Hermione suddenly sat upright, and her hands flew to her chest, patting her shirt frantically, expecting her hands to grow sticky with blood. Her eyes were blinded by the intense light of her surroundings, and she blinked furiously, as she tried to figure out why her hands could find no wound. _

_Slowly, ever so slowly, a room began to come into focus around her, a room so unlike anything that she had ever seen before that she momentarily forgot about purple lights and disappearing chest wounds._

_The room seemed to be made of light. The floors, the walls, and the ceiling all glowed. It was like being inside a gigantic square light bulb. Hermione looked down and realized for the first time that she was sitting on an ornate silver bed. It seemed to be the only furniture in the room, and the silver frame was cool to the touch as her fingers traced the delicate floral filigree that adorned the bed._

_Hermione was distracted again by the contrast her fingers made against the cool silver. Her fingers seemed to be…_

_**Glowing? But how is that possible? Am I… I mean, could this be… could I be – **_

_Her thoughts were interrupted by a tinkling laugh._

"_No, little one, you are not dead. You are suspended." Hermione whipped her head around, trying to locate the source of the voice, but she couldn't see anyone._

"_Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, shifting nervously on the bed._

"_We are sisters." And Hermione had to once again close her eyes as the room seemed to grow even brighter than before, and a wave of warmth coursed through her body._

_She felt a gentle hand against her forehead, and a quiet voice murmured, "Little one? You can open your eyes now."_

_Hermione felt somewhat reassured by the gentle touch, which reminded her of her mother checking, when she was young, to see if Hermione had a fever. Bravely, she cracked her eyes open and (encouraged when the light did not immediately blind) hesitatingly allowed them to open all the way._

_Before her were three women. Each wore a dress that seemed to be made of golden sunlight. The tallest had cascades of blonde curls, and a silver necklace that matched the beautiful filigree on the bed. The other two wore radiant smiles, and the one on the right (who was rather short) winked at her cheerily._

"_Who are you?" Hermione asked in wonderment, humbled by the beautiful women and the brilliant, white light they seemed to exude._

_The figure in the middle spoke._

"_For now, we shall simply be known as your friends. We are three sisters, Hermione Granger, but we are not of this earth. We have brought you here, suspended in time, to accept a gift and a burden." The winking sister on the right had stopped smiling, and the sister on the left (whose dress was longer than the others) was nodding seriously._

_Hermione blurted out the first thought that came to her mind._

"_Me? Why me? You have to let me go back! Harry needs me!"_

"_Indeed he does, though perhaps not quite in the way you are imagining."_

"_No, you don't understand, there were so many of them, and we lost Ginny and Luna and Ron, and Sirius wasn't there!" Hermione began to cry, and the three sisters immediately encircled her, embracing her and seeking to offer comfort. The tallest soothingly spoke into her hair._

"_Little one, don't cry. Please, hear what we have to say." Hermione, who had felt instantly better in the gentle warmth of their arms, sniffled and nodded her head. However, she sent a silent prayer for Harry's safety to whoever might be listening._

_The shortest of the sisters took her hand and gracefully pulled Hermione to her feet. She led the confused girl over to a set of four chairs that suddenly seemed to pop into existence, which made Hermione frown. It would take a lot of power to transfigure dust motes into delicately engraved silver chairs, and Hermione wasn't quite sure such a thing was even possible._

_Hermione took a seat, and the sisters followed her lead, drifting closer to form a little semicircle around her._

_Their presence was a bit overwhelming, like being covered from head to foot in a favorite perfume or eating an entire decadent chocolate cake. _

_**Although Ron would probably finish it in half the time it would take me to eat a slice, and then he would request another cake.**_

_Thinking about Ron comforted Hermione, and she knew her friends would expect her to be brave in the unusual situation she now found herself experiencing. She locked eyes with the tallest of the sisters, and something in them must have encouraged the woman to begin talking. Hermione leaned forward, and soon even thoughts of Harry and danger fled from her mind at the lure of the fascinating words spilling from the lips of the sister._

"_Hermione Granger, you must first understand that we do not experience time the same way that you do. The past, present, and future are all but a single moment in our perception. This is something that can't really be explained to someone who has not experienced it. This room is as close of a portrayal of our existence as we can create in your world. You would consider this a frozen state, as for you, time does not move around us. You are, in a manner of speaking, suspended in time." Hermione nodded to show that she understood (although she really didn't). The tallest sister chuckled again, and then continued._

"_There is, as you are aware, much cause for wickedness in your world, especially with the rise of the one who calls himself the Dark Lord. However, there are darker forms of evil, specifically those that caused his birth. He was born without the capacity to love, Hermione. His father came to his mother unwillingly, a slave to that most deadly of potions." Hermione instantly realized that she was referring to Amortentia._

"_This is something that cannot be allowed. _

"_Many years ago in your time, yet in this same moment for us, a young girl came to give us a most special gift. She gave us her heart, and it is her selfless sacrifice that allows us to ask what we must now ask of you._

"_The darker forms of evil, of which we have spoken, are often thwarted by the simplest means. In pride and arrogance, they overlook and underestimate. And so, we have chosen you, a simple woman-child, as ambassador of the light. When these darker forms of evil, known collectively as Despair, disrupted the creation of your Lord Voldemort they broke a universal law. Normally, we would not be able to interfere with time, but powers greater than our own have decided that the side of light shall also be allowed to break the laws of the universe, just this once._

_Hermione felt a swell of happiness, which was instantly tempered by a deepening certainty of her own inadequacy. She suddenly felt very small._

"_We are giving you the heart that has been entrusted to us, and we are giving you two tasks. Your first task is to right the wrong of Despair. The heart we will give you shall merge with your own, and cause it to swell with potential, giving you alone the ability to complete this task. You may fail. All the universe allows us is the chance. The outcome, from your perspective, is not guaranteed. We cannot tell you what will occur. You must discover how to complete this task on your own. We are taking away your knowledge of the connection between the boy known as Tom Marvolo Riddle and the man Lord Voldemort. This is a necessary action. After this conversation, you will not know anything about Tom Riddle, although we are placing you in his year at Hogwarts. _

_The tallest woman held up a hand to silence the protest that died on Hermione's lips as she sensed the woman's quiet authority. When Hermione had closed her mouth, the woman smiled and continued as though no interruption had occurred. _

"_Again, there is a greater purpose behind this that is not for you to know at this time._

"_You must discover how to right the wrong on your own, but know that it cannot be done without love, specifically the love that you will possess. The heart you will be given is powerful, and combined with your own, will allow you to overcome the barriers that have been in place since his birth. He was born without the basic right of humanity, the right to love, and you must somehow restore this right to him. Remember, love can surmount the impossible." Hermione quirked a brow in skepticism but the woman merely smiled in a way that was quickly becoming familiarly irritating, as it promised no explanation._

"_The young girl who came to us also asked that you complete an additional task. You must assist Albus Dumbledore in his defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. He will defeat him, no matter what you do, but only with your help can he do so without succumbing to Despair. We shall leave your memories of Albus Dumbledore's history intact." _

"_I don't actually know much about his history. He's a rather elusive man, for all his fame." Hermione interrupted, biting her lip as she tried to recall everything she had heard about the headmaster's past. It wasn't a whole lot._

"_Well now you are to become a part of his history." At this bold statement, Hermione felt an uncontrollable shiver race down her spine._

"_Time is, from your perspective, quite tricky. We have decided to guard your mind while you journey to what you would call "the past." You will not be able to speak of us to anyone. You will not be able to reveal anything about the future against your will, from those that would seek to know your secrets. We will present you at Hogwarts, and your alibi will be both strong and interesting. _

"_As for the imprint you will leave on "the past," the universe is allowing us to make you untraceable. This means that the people you meet will remember you as Hermione Granger, but they will not be able to make the connection between you and your future self. It will be as though you are two separate people in their minds, no matter how similar, and they will not question this._

"_When you have completed your two tasks to the best of your abilities, we shall come to collect you and we will bring you back to your 'present.' You are in a rather nasty state due to a curse, and you should prepare yourself for this._

"_There are many who have placed their hopes upon you. Should you accept this heart and these two tasks, you will carry a great responsibility. _

_And so we come to the inevitable moment of decision. We must ask this formally. Do you, Hermione Granger, accept this heart and the challenges that accompany it?" Hermione's eyes widened as the shortest sister pulled out a golden box that slowly opened to reveal what seemed to be a ball of liquid light._

_**That doesn't exactly look like a heart. **_

"_Most hearts don't look like this, Hermione. Bear in mind that this is not a physical heart, but the heart of a soul. This one…is particularly beautiful. But we digress from the matter at hand. Will you, Hermione Granger, do your best to help Albus Dumbledore, and to counter the dark workings of Despair? A simple nod will suffice."_

_Hermione, eyes wide and mind racing with an incredible horde of new information, gulped nervously. She thought carefully, and her mind filled with unasked questions. Somehow, she didn't think she'd be getting any answers, especially if that slightly infuriating smile was anything to go by again. These sisters, whatever they were, seemed to have given her all the information they were willing to give. Coming to a decision, Hermione nodded her head._

"_I don't see how I will be able to do this, but I'm willing to try." Her voice was shaky, and the three sisters smiled blindingly before embracing her in another hug._

_Hermione's heart raced in fear and anticipation as the tallest sister stepped away, and held out cupped hands to Hermione. The moment felt surreal, like the wisps of a dream._

"_Here is the heart. Place it gently, over your chest. It becomes a part of you now." Hermione held out her hands to accept the golden light that flowed from the figure's hands. When she had all of it, she placed the ball of light over her chest, and felt an exhilarating fire surge through her soul as the two hearts merged. She was barely aware of the tingling of glass shards in her cheeks, and the whisper of gentle voices beckoning her forward._

"_Come, little one. It is time for you to begin your tasks."_

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione's eyes snapped open at the sound of her name and a few titters went through the crowd. Evidently it wasn't the first time her name had been called.

As her cheeks burned with embarrassment, Hermione went to sit on the spindly little wooden stool. Unfortunately she was stopped short from her goal by the firm clamp of a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Professor Dumbledore smiling gently down at her.

"Just a moment, Miss Granger. You need to be introduced," he whispered, not unkindly.

He placed his arm around her shoulder and turned her to face the crowd, before speaking in a booming voice.

"Before Miss Granger takes her place with the Sorting Hat, I have been asked by Headmaster Dippet to make an announcement. As a school, we find ourselves placed in a peculiar situation. As many of you have probably guessed, Miss Granger is not a first year."

A scattering of laughter echoed throughout the hall, and Dumbledore chuckled as well.

"Miss Granger is also not a transfer student, nor has she been privately tutored." The Hall went silent, and everyone stared at her. Hermione had to suppress the sudden urge to slug Dumbledore, instead merely looking up at him, desperately imploring with her eyes that he continue. He finally begin to speak again, and Hermione felt a knot of fear twist sickening patterns in her stomach, because she had no idea what her three golden "friends" had told the professor before they had unceremoniously dropped her into his care. She was willing to bet, however, that whatever had been given by way of explanation would earn her more stares.

_Oh the joys of time traveling._

Still, she was quite curious to know what "excuse" had been given.

_Well, I guess I'm about to find out._

Indeed she was. And so was the rest of the school, including the only boy missing from the Slytherin table, tucked away out of sight. He was hidden in an alcove just outside the doors to the Great Hall, waiting patiently for the moment to make his move. The girl was a bump in the plan, but it didn't look like she'd be creating too much of a delay, so he leaned forward in interest, wanting to know the reasons behind her unexpected arrival.

After all, knowledge was power, and Tom Riddle wanted to get as much of _that_ as possible.


	5. Chapter 4 The Sorting Hat's Request

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER***

**Once again, Harry Potter and all associated content remain the property of Ms. J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, respectively. **

**Good luck with this chapter. As in the rest of the story, all of the characters are from the Harry Potter universe, and have been acknowledged by J.K. Rowling at some point. So if you come upon a jabbering Septimus Weasley, don't say I didn't warn you.**

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**CHAPTER 4 - THE SORTING HAT'S REQUEST**

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_"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed."_

_(C of S - pg. 310)_

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_The entire Great Hall was silent.

And then Albus Dumbledore began to speak, and everyone leaned forward in their seats.

"Miss Granger has in fact spent the past four years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hermione looked up in shocked confusion, but luckily Professor Dumbledore was too busy surveying the many reactions of the students to notice. Hermione tried to drop the expression of surprise, but inside, she was completely panicking. Surely those three sisters hadn't told Dumbledore she was from the future?

A deep voice boomed from the Gryffindor table, "But that's not possible!" and Hermione heard several others voicing their agreement.

"We would've recognized her."

"Look, even old Pringle seems surprised, and I'd bet my last knut he knows every student that's every set foot here, even them's that have already graduated!"

"Yeah mate, and I've never heard of her name before, either. Grangie, wasn't it?"

"No, it was Granger you dolt head."

Hermione slowly slipped her wand into her hand, prepared to use it should a sudden get-away become necessary.

Professor Dumbledore waited until all his audience had once again quieted before continuing.

"This summer, Hermione Granger, who had just finished her fourth year at this school - " more speculative whispers arose " – signed up for a study at the Department of Mysteries. The study was for the _avexi avectum_ curse, more commonly known as the Isolation Spell." Most students looked fairly confused, with the exception of an older girl sitting at the Slytherin table and a solemn-looking boy at the Ravenclaw table who was sporting the Head Boy badge.

Hermione was just as stumped as everyone else.

Professor Dumbledore adjusted a pair of half-moon spectacles resting on his rather large nose before explaining.

"Now, for those of you who have never heard of the Isolation Spell let me give a brief-" Hermione heard a cough from the High Table, "-explanation. There was, at least until this summer, no proof that the curse worked, and it's only mentioned in a few old, very rare texts. The curse acts on two parties; the primary subject, in this case our own Hermione Granger, and the secondary subjects. The secondary subjects include anyone who has ever known, met, or even heard of the primary subject. Now interestingly enough -" there was another cough from the High Table, this one a little louder, and Dumbledore glanced up. "Right, in the interest of time, I won't go into further detail. The affect this curse had on Miss Granger was unexpected, according to the Unspeakables who ran the study, first of all because it worked perfectly, but secondly because the counter-curse did absolutely nothing. _Avexi avectum_ erased almost all of Miss Granger's connections with people – that is to say, she still has her memories, but the people in the memories are blurred, so that she knows no one. It also erased other's connections to her – anyone who had ever had any contact with Miss Granger, or even with just her name, will no longer remember her. Their memories have simply excluded her, making it as if she had never existed."

The room had gone completely silent once more, and many people were giving Hermione strange looks, similar to the look Hermione herself was giving to Professor Dumbledore. If he noticed, he gave no indication, because he continued on after a moment of silence.

"Luckily, the Unspeakables did take one precaution before administering the spell, and Miss Granger has three aunts whom remain unaffected by the curse, and thus were able to give me all of Miss Granger's necessary information and history, including her past school records. But besides these three people, it is as if Hermione Granger never existed. And now I know you are all anxious to get to the feast – but let's wait a moment to see where Miss Granger will be sorted, as we have no memory of where she was before. Miss Granger, if you could please sit on this stool-" Dumbledore gently took Hermione by the arm, and led her to the Sorting Hat. She noted gratefully that the stool seemed to be a bit bigger than it had been when sorting the first-years. She took a seat, and Dumbledore swept the hat onto her head. Hermione waited patiently, but inside she was a bundle of nerves, desperate to get out of the spotlight and sort through the confusing nightmare that was Dumbledore's speech.

"_Well this is an interesting mind – obviously a Gryffindor though. Hardly needed to put me on for that." _ A sharp voice resounded through her head, breaking through Hermione's Dumbledore-induced haze. Was the hat actually talking to her? Harry had mentioned something about this once, but she hadn't given it much thought at the time.

"_Yes, I occasionally converse with the students, although it is somewhat rare, and usually to help them pick the house that their subconscious mind has already chosen." _Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly, but the hat gave her very little time to marvel and digest this newfound information, by continuing straightaway, "_In your case, however, I'm afraid I have a bit of an ulterior motive. You see, in approximately three minutes, Albus will ask you to take me to his office. I believe he's planned a little meeting, he's quite fascinated by what the Sisters told him. Humph. Never fall for a pretty smile, no matter how literally __**dazzling**__. At any rate, the favor I need should be simple for a witch like you: in short someone will try to take me at some point this evening, someone who has no business doing so, and you must make sure they do not succeed! Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but the person of interest is frankly rather powerful and it's better to be safe than sorry, wouldn't you agree?" _

Hermione nodded her head absently, missing the curious glances that were being shot at her from the crowd as she focused her attention on the hat. "_Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Knew you were clever. Once I get to Albus' office, I should be safe, but I want you to make sure I get there without passing through any strange hands. You're smart, I'm sure you can think of some way to protect me. Transfiguration is always a nice touch, and won't affect me at all. That should avoid the worst of his planning, if only temporarily. Alright, hurry it up now, and good luck Hermione – I really do hope we can chat again soon - GRYFFINDOR!" _ This last word was shouted for everyone to hear, and Hermione dazedly got off the stool, clutching the hat tightly in her right hand, amidst loud cheering from the Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore raised his hands with a flourish. "And on that note," his voice boomed over the clapping, "Let the feast begin!"

Attention turned to the tables as delicious dishes suddenly appeared. Many of the students seemed quite enthusiastic, and even Hermione's stomach gave a low rumble. Her cheeks reddened, but no one seemed to have noticed.

"Hey Hermione, come sit over here! You're a Gryff now!" Hermione was a little unsure what to do. Was this the person who was trying to steal the Sorting Hat? It would probably be best to hide it now, and Hermione realized that this could be a good opportunity. She began to walk towards a redhead who wore a huge grin on his face as he gestured towards an empty seat, planning on how best to trip without being too noticeable, but she was stopped in her progression by Dumbledore's hand on her shoulder.

Hermione, who had been so concentrated on trying to fall and make it look like an accident, was caught off balance, and pitched forward to tumble rather ungracefully to the floor, where (not being the sort to waste an opportunity) she muttered two spells in quick succession. She slipped the sorting hat, now a small ring, onto her finger, even as a crumb on the floor transfigured into a splitting image of the loquacious hat. She rubbed her sore bum as Dumbledore turned a bit red and the boy who had called her over gave her an even larger grin.

It hadn't been part of the plan to stumble _that_ obviously.

_Oh well. I should be embarrassed, but I can't find the energy to care. At least I got the time I needed to hide the hat._

Hermione assured Dumbledore for the fifth time that she was perfectly fine, and could not suppress the small sigh of relief that escaped when he finally turned to address the boy.

"I apologize, Mr. Weasley, but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to become acquainted – or possibly reacquainted – with Miss Granger. She is going to my office so that we can form a suitable schedule."

The redhead cocked his head with a pout, addressing Hermione. "Alright then. Only here five minutes and you're already elusive and mysterious. Have I mentioned that I like my girls elusive and mysterious? And I like them with brown hair, and brown eyes, and curls, and pink li-" He was cut off when the girl next to him slapped him on the shoulder.

"Septimus, you couldn't charm a quaffle to fly with a line like that. Honestly, I thought I'd taught you better -"

The girl threw Hermione a look that plainly said sorry-about-my-idiotic-soon-to-be-ex-friend and Hermione turned away to hide a smile, which Professor Dumbledore caught and returned with one of his own.

Hermione wondered vaguely if his cheeks were beginning to hurt from all of the smiling.

"Miss Granger, I'm assuming that you still remember where the Transfiguration office is located?" Hermione nodded her head (she'd found herself nodding a lot lately), hoping that it was still in the same spot.

"Excellent. I need to have a quick word with our gamekeeper, Mr. Ogg, and then I'll be right along. I'd be very obliged if you would take the Sorting Hat along with you, but don't worry about the stool, I'll grab that. Feel free to dig in without me when you get there– I believe the house elves have laid us out a marvelously delicious spread." Professor Dumbledore went to clap her one last time on the back, but checked himself just in time (obviously not wanting a repeat performance of her fall), and gave her a little wink instead, swishing away in his bright robes.

Hermione watched him as he walked up to the head table to chat with a scary-looking man who sported a pointedly crooked shoulder. The ring on her finger twitched impatiently, and Hermione stopped watching Dumbledore and walked out of the Great Hall. Her mind, as ever, was whirring with plans and ideas, in an attempt to bring the focus away from the anger she was feeling towards her so-called "aunts."

_How dare they? Of all the most ridiculous alibis! __**How**__ could they not even __**ask**__ for my opinion? First, they give me two bizarre tasks, not only barely explaining the first one, but also insisting that I will need to discover the second on my own! And that short one just winked when I told her that doing so would be impossible, and then told me not to worry, that I'd know the Indifference Child when I saw him. Not that they even let me remember what I'm supposed to do from there. Then, they drop me off in front of my old headmaster, __**in a different time**_**, **_without as much as a brief by-your-leave! And that stupid alibi! They could have at least __**told **__me about the Isolation Spell before leaving me to the wolves! Honestly! I just want to wring their awful little golden– _

Hermione's internal tirade turned into a cry of surprise as she ran into someone, and began to fall to the floor for the second time that evening. Just before she hit the ground, however, a swift pair of arms reached out to grab her, hauling her upright. Heart pumping, Hermione closed her eyes. Someone's hands were on her shoulders, and it took her a few seconds to realize that the same someone was trying to talk to her.

"Miss? Miss? Are you alright?" Hermione slowly opened her eyes, and blinked stupidly at the sight before her, positive her sanity had finally cracked, because looking back at her was the face of a younger but most definitely recognizable Antonin Dolohov. She'd studied his face in the paper, on the day of the Mass Breakout from Azkaban.

But it was not his face that scared her. It was his voice. It was the same voice that she'd silenced in the Department of Mysteries, the voice of the man who had hit her with a stunningly painful curse, and there had been blood, so much blood–

The same voice that now held more than a little concern, as Dolohov (for she was convinced it was he) looked down at her worriedly.

"I'm…I'm fine, thank you so much," Hermione replied in a shaky voice, unable to stop herself from backing away from Dolohov. His eyes were strange, and they were making her uncomfortable. They were an impossibly light shade of brown, and they were focused on her with a confident intensity.

"It was not a problem. My name is Antonin Dolohov. Forgive me, but are you new to Hogwarts? I only arrived at the tail end of Professor Dumbledore's speech, and I'm afraid I quite missed the beginning." As Dolohov raised a querying brow, Hermione received yet another shock as a piercing knowledge shot through her entire being. Her mouth fell open with recognition, because all of a sudden, she knew beyond a doubt that the person standing before her was the Indifference Child. If asked, she would not have been able to say how she came to this knowledge; it was simply there, and as true to Hermione as sunlight in the morning.

_Alright, so I've established that Anotnin Dolohov, Death Eater-extraordinaire, my would-be murderer, is the infamous Indifference Child. Now, if only I could remember why that's even significant, and what on earth my second quest has to do with __**him**__!_

Dolohov eyed her glazed expression curiously and cleared his throat. Hermione blushed red, trying to remember the question he had just asked her.

She put a hand to her head, feigning dizziness (which was not exactly a difficult act to pull off at the moment) and looked up at Dolohov with what she hoped was a sufficiently befuddled look.

"Pardon?" she squeaked out, blushing even more at the high-pitched sound of her voice.

Dolohov quirked his eyebrow again, but humored her request.

"I said, my name is Antonin Dolohov. I arrived just in time to hear the end of quite an impressive speech. Professor Dumbledore is known to be slightly flamboyant, but it seems in your case, he may have reason to be overenthusiastic. Where have you come from, Miss-?" he paused, and Hermione realized he didn't even know her name.

_I think my face is now redder than Ron's hair._

"I'm so sorry, Mister Dolohov, my name is Hermione, Hermione Granger. Thank you for saving me from another embarrassing fall, that would have been the second in the last five minutes. In all honesty, you didn't miss much. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow in classes and could explain then? I'm actually in somewhat of a hurry; I've got to go to Professor Dumbledore's office, he's expecting me." Hermione gave him a nod of dismissal and began to walk away. She had barely gone two steps when she felt a strong hand grasp her arm.

"Wait, I'm sorry… but I believe you dropped this?" Hermione, annoyed, turned around and promptly colored _again_. Dolohov held out the hat she'd been carrying.

_Oh well, at least I didn't forget the __**actual **__sorting hat._

Hermione glanced down at her finger to ensure that the transfigured sorting hat had not been moved. She was relieved to see the silvery ring that sparkled back at her.

Dolohow was regarding her with a carefully hidden amusement.

"Listen, why don't I accompany you to the Transfiguration office, Miss Granger? I would love to hear what I've missed. And unless you're a fifth year, or a Slytherin, I doubt I'll be seeing you in classes." He gave her a friendly grin, and held out his arm.

Hermione smiled hesitantly and gingerly took his arm.

_What's the worst that can happen? If Dolohov's the so-called Indifference Child, it's probably not a bad idea to get to know him better. And it's not like he's flinging around Unforgivables at the moment. Who knows? Perhaps the young Antonin Dolohov isn't as bad as his future counterpart_

Dolohov smiled back, and they began walking down the long hall together.

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"I'm a fifth year." Tom glanced at the girl walking beside him. He wasn't too concerned that he was acting completely outside of Dolohov's character. The girl wouldn't know the difference, since apparently she had no memory of anyone.

"Ah, so perhaps I shall see you in classes tomorrow after all. I'm a fifth year as well. But tell me, how did you end up here, and why was Professor Dumbledore going on about the _avexi avectum_ curse?" Tom asked politely. Of course, he already knew the answer, having listened to Dumbledore's dramatically long-winded speech. Still, he was interested to see how the girl herself understood the spell. He had felt a twinge of anger when he realized that the spell must have affected him as well, because the girl was completely unfamiliar. Having her explain the circumstances would serve two purposes; he could gain a better understanding of the situation, and he could begin to organize a new mental dossier on yet another student. It paid to pay attention to details.

It was hard for Tom to repress a feeling of smugness as he discreetly checked beneath his robes for the sorting hat. It had been careless of her to drop something so precious around a stranger; she now carried a fake sorting hat of his own creation, while the actual relic was tucked safely away in his robes. Mission accomplished. Tom was feeling decidedly pleased with himself.

The girl next to him looked thoughtful as she began to answer his question.

"Have you ever heard of the studies that are conducted in the ministry?" Tom gave a brief nod and an encouraging smile.

_Dolohov would not be happy if he saw how I'm using his body. This mouth feels like it hasn't cracked a smile in quite some time._

"Right then…well, apparently, at the beginning of this past summer, I signed up for a study with the Department of Mysteries." Tom was only half-listening as he studied her body language. She was walking quite briskly, but her strides were short, because she was somewhat small. She couldn't have been much more than five feet. Her hair was like a living entity; incredibly wild, a huge mess of brown curls. The occasional corkscrew ringlet clashed with golden pieces of frizz and a wispy side-bang that she was constantly swishing out of her eyes.

Her eyes, he had noted earlier, were very sharp, and quite large. They almost looked too big for her face, especially with her nose. It was sharp, small, and slightly upturned towards the tip. Her mouth was a subtle dark red, ravaged from a lip-chewing habit that Tom immediately recognized; his own lips were constantly chapped from the same obnoxious tendency. It contrasted sharply with her pale skin, milky-white, except for right now, because she was blushing, and Tom suddenly realized she'd become aware of his scrutiny.

She looked down at her feet, and quickened her pace a small amount.

Suppressing a predatory smirk, Tom took pity on the girl. It would be much harder to gain her trust if he kept embarrassing her all the time.

"That is a fascinating story, Miss Granger, and I'm sure that within the next few days, many people will be asking you to repeat it. However, they may not realize something I cannot help but notice. How are _you_ dealing with this whole debacle? It must be terrible for you; I feel angry having _my_ memory tampered with by the curse, but it has affected _your_ entire _existence_."

The girl looked up at her, and he caught a strange flash of contempt in her eyes. He noted it carefully, determined to analyze her responses more in depth in the quiet of his dorm room.

"Yes, it is remarkable the affect a curse can have on a person's life… or death for that matter." Here she shot him another look that Tom reluctantly recognized as anger. Somehow, he was making a mess of gaining her trust, although he didn't understand why; did she in fact have some memory of Dolohov that the curse had not erased?

"It's kind of you to consider my feelings in the matter, but really, I am somewhat indifferent. If my knowledge of magic had been tampered with, I would probably be much angrier, but at present I am somewhat resigned to the loss of my relationships. I suppose I asked for it, in a way; who would be stupid enough to sign up for a study at _the Department of Mysteries_, of all places?" Here she gave a bitter laugh, and Tom switched tactics by putting his arm around her shoulder and speaking earnestly when she stiffened beneath him.

"Forgive the sudden intimacy, but I don't think it was stupid of you at all. It sounds like you volunteered bravely, and for a good cause, too. I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that I admire what you've done. I can't think of many witches who would be brave enough to submit to the wands of Unspeakables. They're a frightening lot at the best of times." He paused for affect, waiting for his words to sink in, and was gratified when she relaxed slightly against him as they began to near Dumebledore's office. They approached the door and the girl gave him a shy smile before gesturing towards the office.

"Well, here's my stop. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Dolohov, and refreshing to hear your kind words, even though you haven't quite convinced me that I'm not a brainless idiot for going through with that study." She laughed, a high, rich sound that seemed to warm the air. Tom found himself returning her smile without his the usual prompting of his calculating deliberateness.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Granger, and I must insist that you call me Antonin. If we were friends before, I hope that we can become reacquainted, and if we weren't… then obviously I was the idiot." Tom bowed, pleased to see her returning blush.

_I will need to be having quite a long chat with Dolohov tonight if I am to use this new friendship to my advantage…_

Tom lifted his chin triumphantly as he felt the comfortable wait of the sorting hat beneath his robes. He muttered a quiet spell to ignite the mark on Dolohov's arm – it was time to end the ridiculous Polyjuice charade and get down to business. He then headed down towards a room in the dungeons, previously designated as their meeting point. It would feel good to get back into his own skin.

Hermione closed the door to Professor Dumbledore's office firmly before leaning against the doorframe and letting out a sigh of relief. Dolohov was a bit intense.

She slowly pulled the sorting hat off her finger before transfiguring it back to its' normal self. She then turned to the fake sorting hat and whispered the same spell under her breath, the spell that was supposed to turn it back into a simple bread crumb. Hermione was surprised however, when the fake sorting hat did not turn into the crumb she had expected, but rather into a simple black thread.

She studied the thread with narrowed eyes, questioning the integrity of her spellwork, but quickly hid it behind her back as the door burst open and Professor Dumbledore entered. As he invited her to sit, and her mind began whirring with all of the deceptions and tall tales, the unbelievable reality and the extravagantly presented falsities of a day that seemed to be lasting a century, the stray thought that contained her curiosity at the small black thread was buried beneath a deluge of other, seemingly more important matters. After all, she now had a professor to fool, a castle of stares to endure, and two impossible missions to complete.

Hermione thought longingly of the bed that she was sure awaited her up in the Gryffindor girl's dorms. Mentally sighing, Hermione pasted on a polite smile as Professor Dumbledore offered her a pumpkin biscuit.


	6. Chapter 5 Shivers and Stenches

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER***

**I like this chapter. Let me know what you think, and once again, feel free to ask me questions or point out any mistakes you discover. Thanks for reading!**

**And also, I do not own Harry Potter, or his world. Although sometimes I wish I lived in it. **** But J.K Rowling alone can lay claim to the brilliance of such a creation. With Warner Brothers, I suppose, although Harry Potter would still exist without them, whereas without Ms. Rowling… *shudder gasp* Let's not think about it. Alright, moving on.**

***Another note, added on November 18, 2010:***

**A small portion of this has been edited, thanks to Hermitt, who caught my mistake. Thank you Hermitt!  
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**CHAPTER 5 – SHIVERS AND STENCHES**

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"_On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls…"_

-Tom Riddle (C of S – pg. 311)

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There were four quiet beds in the tiny Gryffindor dormitory, each with hanging scarlet curtains. The only sounds in the room were those of even breaths, and the occasional lingering snore. Three pairs of eyes were shut tightly, lost beneath dreams of yelling poltergeists and swishing wandpoints. The fourth pair of eyes, however, was wide open.

Hermione stared at the top of her four-poster bed, covered in delicate graffiti from previous students. The last person to own the bed had been something of an artist; the wood was carved with spiraling flowers and fluttering birds, linked around the occasional initial or name. Hermione saw none of this.

She was not asleep, but in that stage between awareness and dreams, when everything is both possible and meaningless. The room was relatively dark although a few tentative birds were chirping cautiously in the darkness before dawn.

_How can I do this?_

A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek, and she made no move to wipe it away. It was soon joined by another, and then another, until her face was glistening in the pale moonlight.

She had not slept the night before, although she had convinced Professor Dumbledore that she'd share dinner with him some other time. She had given him the Sorting Hat before making her excuses, although she hadn't gone straight to the Common Room as she had led him to believe she would. By the time she'd made it up to her new dormitory, everyone else was asleep, which had been a huge relief.

The reality of her situation was upsetting, and already taking a cruel toll, but Hermione's tears in the early morning were not for the quests she supposedly had to accomplish. No, the tears she cried were born of insecurities and childhood fears, and they traced sadly familiar patterns down her face.

_I've never been good at this whole making friends business._

A memory flitted across her mind, round at the edges and perfectly detailed, still containing all the powerful emotions that had first accompanied it.

_It was a crisp day in October, and Hermione had been at Hogwarts for a little less than two months. She put on a brave face, but the night before last she'd cried herself to sleep. _

_She was in a school for wizards and witches; a whole new treasure trove of knowledge was placed at her very fingertips, and best of all, she was learning firsthand that magic was real. It was incredible, like a dream come true, and Hermione should have been ecstatically happy._

_But she was not. Something vital was missing, and Hermione was all too aware of what that something was._

_She had no friends._

_And unfortunately for the young Hermione, the once-promising fall morning took a decided turn for the worst in what was usually one of her favorite classes: Charms. _

"_You do it then, if you're so clever," Ronald Weasley had motioned towards the feather on his desk._

_Hermione had smiled, excited to show someone that she could do it, that she was just like them… no matter if she hadn't grown up knowing she was a witch. Maybe they'd ask her to teach them, and then-_

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione cried with a flourish and the feather lifted gracefully into the air. Professor Flitwick started clapping, and Hermione turned around, beaming, to look at the gangly redhead. But Ronald didn't return her smile. In fact, he glared at her rather fiercely._

_Hermione's face showed confusion and hurt for a split second, but then she hid it behind a look of concentration as she pretended to be focusing on holding the feather aloft. It wasn't actually all that difficult, but anything was better than looking in Ronald's scorn-filled eyes. He obviously loathed her. A stray tear rolled down her cheek, and as the class was dismissed, Hermione lingered behind, slowly stuffing her materials into her bag. Harry Potter and Ronald were just in front of her, and Hermione couldn't help but hear the tail end of their conversation._

"_It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly." Ronald's voice had sounded unnaturally clear as Hermione had frozen for a second as though in physical pain. It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were talking about, and the poor girl had felt miserable as a fresh batch of sobs threatened to break loose. She promptly shoved past the two boys and ran to the girl's bathroom where she had felt safe as she cried her little heart out._

She was older now, and her tears were quieter, but no less intense. School had been _hell_ before she'd finally became friends with Harry and Ron, and now Hermione felt like she was in the same situation all over again, surrounded by strangers and extremely far from home.

She couldn't stand laying quietly on her bed for another moment, so Hermione fumbled around in the near darkness and changed into the uniform she'd put out the night before. She grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and silently slipped out into the Common Room.

There were a few people awake, seventh-years, by the look of them, but they were arguing heatedly, and only spared her a few curious glances. Hermione pulled a scarf tightly around her neck and bent down to jam her shoes on. She pulled her hair back into a rubber as she exited the Common Room portrait hole.

She somehow found her way outside, just as the sun was peering around the tip of the earth, casting a few bright rays on the glistening grass of Hogwart's grounds.

Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and Hermione allowed them to lead her on without really paying much attention to where she was going.

Because of this, she was slightly surprised when she found herself heading down a quiet path on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione gave a wry grin when she realized where her feet were taking her.

Third year had been another lonely year. She was stressed taking so many classes, and to make matters worse, she got into a spat with Ron and Harry. For a while, her best friend had been Rubeus Hagrid, the gigantic, wonderful gamekeeper who had introduced Harry into the magical had worked so hard to lighten the death sentence placed on his beloved hippogriff, Buckbeak. She had spent hours talking and walking with Hagrid around the school grounds and the path she followed now was one of his old favorites. She was surprised to see that even in this time, it looked well worn. The trail began to lead deeper into the Forbidden Forest, and Hermione casually pulled out her wand. It was always good to be prepared.

Hermione suddenly heard a distinct grunt in the distance, and she froze immediately. What was that?

A loud roar split the air, and the leaves on the trees fluttered in response as the terrible noise was followed by the muffled sound of a human shout. Hermione felt her blood run cold. She would recognize that roar anywhere.

Hermione gripped her wand tighter and ran towards the sounds of chaos, trying to remember everything she knew about trolls.

She burst out of a tangled mess of branches and undergrowth into a small clearing at the end of the trail, and panted from exertion, although she did not allow herself a long respite. There were more important matters she had to attend to.

Such as the troll that was standing smack dab in the middle of the clearing.

The beast before her was stood roughly nine feet tall, with skin that looked like it came from a dead toad, and short legs that were as thick as tree trunks. It was facing away from her, long arms ripping up fistfuls of the ground in anger as it let out another fierce bellow. Hermione noticed it was bleeding from a small cut on its' tiny little head, and she wondered what had happened to it.

She didn't have to wonder long as the troll moved forward slightly, and Hermione was given her first glance at what had so infuriated the beast.

A large boy in Hogwarts robes was sitting on the ground, yelling at the troll (which Hermione thought was a rather stupid thing to do) and gesturing angrily with his fist. It seemed like he was issuing a challenge. He was also, unsurprisingly, a Gryffindor.

Was the boy _trying_ to get killed?

Hermione didn't pause to think.

She ran closer towards the duo and raised her wand, pointing it straight at the lumpy back of the troll.

"_Aliusque et Adem!" _She yelled, praying she had remembered the incantation correctly. The troll's skin began to ripple and it looked like bubbles were forming beneath the hideously colored membrane. Then, the troll's skin began to emit a wet hissing sound, and steam rose from the troll's pores until it covered the entire ugly expanse of its' body. When the steam finally cleared, Hermione, chest heaving with adrenaline, found herself staring into the eyes of a clearly maddened, gigantic forest toad.

She stood frozen in awe for a moment. "It worked!" She yelled, as she punched the air triumphantly. The toad began to advance on her, and Hermione came to the quick realization that _anything_ gigantic, with that bad of a temperament, was going to cause problems. She raised her wand again.

"_Confringo!_" she screamed, and Hermione was suddenly covered in toad guts. The stench had her retching, and she leaned over, quickly losing her dinner from the night before.

She jumped back slightly when she felt a large hand pull her hair (which had somehow escaped that blasted rubber) out of the way, but she couldn't exactly stop mid-vomit to see who it was.

When she had finished, she found herself being offered a gigantic, flowery-printed hankerchief.

"Here, miss, jus' use this ter clean up." Hermione grabbed the proffered cloth gratefully, and wiped furiously at her mouth. After she was finished, she looked up to meet a familiar face.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she craned her neck upwards, squinting in the early morning light. There, before her, stood none other than a young Rubeus Hagrid.

He didn't have a beard (though his chin could never have been called cleanshaven), and his wild black hair twined a little ways past his shoulders, but Hermione would have recognized his warm, familiar black eyes anywhere.

"Erm, miss?" Hagrid was eyeing her as though worried for her sanity. Hermione came out of her stupor at the sound of his voice.

"Are you alright?" she cried, reaching up and frantically patting the large boy all over, though she had to stand on her toes to do so. He let out a grunt when she accidentally brushed over a wound on his shoulder, and Hermione gasped when she that the hand she quickly pulled back was covered with red, sticky blood.

"You're hurt! What are you doing? We've got to get you out of here!" Hermione's eyes were wild, and Hagrid probably would have stopped to protest if she had not tugged him insistently towards the path, clucking in distress over his shoulder like a mother hen.

"What were you THINKING! Honestly, how did you make that troll so angry?" Hermione's tone was sharp with worry and relief. Hagrid opened his mouth to respond, but she was shaking her head, and continuing the one-sided conversation angrily.

"That was only a forest troll, and they're so stupid that you'd have to practically stick a needle in its' eye to get it to notice you!" Hagrid grinned sheepishly at the strange young woman. She let out a shriek at this response and tugged a little harder on his arm, which made him wince. She had quite a strong grip for someone so small.

"PLEASE DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY TRYING TO GET ITS' ATTENTION? HONESTLY! DO YOU _WANT_ A DEATH SENTENCE?" Hermione had, by this time, worked herself into a rapidly escalating lecture.

"I was jus' lookin' fer a bit o' wrestlin' practice-"

"WRESTLING PRACTICE!" Hermione held a hand to her forehead to stifle her growing headache, and then made the mistake of once again looking up at a concerned Hagrid. The sight of his familiar face, crinkled beetle black eyes filled with worry caused a wave of homesickness to wash over her. She couldn't help what happened next. She promptly burst into tears and seized him around the middle.

Hagrid awakwardly patted her back as she cried into his chest, letting out the occasional howling sentence of "Your poor hankerchief, it's ruined!" and "I absolutely loathe crying!" (this last was followed by an exceptionally loud sob which left an intimate trail of snot on Hagrid's crooked tie).

"It's alright, miss, no harm done. It wasn't that clean to begin with anyways." Hermione let out a muffled giggle, which relieved Hagrid immensely. The giggle turned into a chuckle, which caused Hagrid to start chuckling, and soon both were clutching their stomachs as the forest echoed with peals of hysterical (in Hermione's case) and utterly confused (in Hagrid's case) laughter. Hagrid wasn't entirely sure why they were laughing, but he was quite relieved that Hermione was no longer crying.

After serenading the unappreciative birds with their loud outburst, Hermione straightened up; wiping her wet cheeks with a dirty hand, as she unknowingly smeared a stripe of mud across her cheek.

She had then stuck out the hand to Hagrid.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

Hagrid grasped her hand a little too strongly, and Hermione heard several of her knuckles crack.

"It's a pleasure ter meet yeh, Miss Hermione. Jus' call me Hagrid. All my friends do."

He released her hand and Hermione exhaled happily.

"Yeh can keep that handkerchief if yeh like."

"Oh, right, thanks for that. I'm sorry I made such a mess, I didn't realize the spell would be quite so effective." Hermione glanced down at the once-pinkish cloth and blushed.

"Don' worry about tha,' of all things. I've always got an extra around somewhere. And that spell was brilliant, fer a moment there, I thought that toad was looking ter squash yeh! Next time, though, yeh should watch me wrestle the creatures. They have a terrible stench, but once yeh've gotten over that, they make the best wrestlin' partners!" Hermione was somehow looking down her nose at Hagrid sternly, although he was at a loss as to how such a short little person could make him feel as though her were suddenly three feet tall.

"I certainly will not come 'next time,' and neither will you! And I hope that you were not implying that you've participated in such reckless behavior before. And there will be no 'next times!' That troll could have killed you!"

Hagrid was quick to stop her before she had a chance to start a new lecture. "Nah, we were jus' gettin' warmed up. Promise, miss, he meant no harm, he was quite nice to oblige me so fast-" he was cut short by the glare that had returned to grace her features, and Hagrid decided a subject change was in order.

"But enough about trolls, blimey, yeh're tha' new girl Dumbledore announced last night, aren' yeh?" Hermione knew he was changing the subject, but let it slide. She knew from experience that she would never be able to persuade Hagrid that the beast wasn't just obliging his want for a good tussle, but rather looking forward to picking Hagrid's bones out of his teeth with a toothpick. So, she let out an audible sigh before she smiled up at him brightly and answered his question.

"Yes, I was resorted last night. I don't know if you heard any of the speech, but apparently there's been some sort of curse put on me, and I can't remember anyone. To make it worse, no one can remember me either."

Hagrid scratched his head.

"I thought Dumbledore said summat like that. Great man, Dumbledore. But what an awful thing ter happen! Must be horrible for yeh, having ter get resorted, starting school again like a first year, having ter make new friends…" Hermione blinked up at him, surprised at his perceptiveness. She felt warmed by his empathy, and knew that if she could tell anyone the fears that were stealing away her sleep, it was Hagrid. It was also interesting, she realized with a sudden jolt, because Dolohov had said nearly the same thing the night before, but the future Death Eater had imagined the situation called for anger whereas Hagrid seemed to view it with a resigned acceptance.

"You know Hagrid, when I was really worried about all of those things, and I'd be lying if I said that I'm not now, but… it hasn't been difficult at all talking to you, has it? I hated all of the staring last night and it's just... well, it's just not really easy, making friends, you know? But maybe it won't be as hard as I thought."

Hagrid gave her a warm smile, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Yeh seem ter be doin' a fine job right now, Miss Hermione. I wouldna worry about making friends if I were you." The genuine quality to his voice somehow made Hermione feel a little better, and she talked to Hagrid all the way up to the Gryffindor Common Room. It was almost eight, and Hermione wanted to take a shower before heading down to breakfast. Troll guts as accessories would probably draw even more attention, and they really did not go well with the Gryffindor colors.

_Although had I been sorted into Slytherin, troll guts would have been perfectly appropriate. The colors even match._

Hermione voiced this thought to Hagrid, and he looked confused for a moment before letting out a snort of laughter, which caused a few curious onlookers in the halls to stare at her with even less subtlety.

_Let them look. Idiots. _

Hermione tossed her hair and smiled a brilliant smile at a boy who had stepped a little too close to her and was gazing at her with a little too much interest. The unfortunate Ravenclaw got an unexpected whiff of troll, and started retching. Hermione giggled as she turned a corner with Hagrid, and the boy was lost to their sight.

_Maybe I was right. Perhaps this won't be so hard after all._

And of course, she could not have been more wrong.

* * *

Antonin sat at the far edge of the Slytherin table, watching as students slowly trickled into the Great Hall. There were noticeably few students from Slytherin up and about, despite the fact that it was already ten past eight, and no one was sitting near him besides an annoying little twit of a third-year girl who was speaking loudly to a few of her friends.

Antonin was surprised when the little group suddenly went silent before bursting into a fit of giggled and excited whispers. Turning towards the doors, he expected to see Lestrange and Malfoy, surrounded by their usual gang. His face paled when he realized that the boy approaching the Slytherin table was none other than Tom Riddle.

As Riddle grew closer, Antonin swallowed audibly. Tom was quiet, but he had a confident gait and a self-assured tilt to his shoulders. He was respected and liked by students from all houses, and unsurprisingly, a shiny new prefect badge gleamed on his school robes. His robes were not expensively cut, or tailored to perfection, as were the robes of many of the pureblooded Slytherins, but they were clean and neat.

The night before, when Antonin had gone to meet him, Tom had been strangely reserved. He had not said whether his plan was a success, and frankly, Antonin thought that the less he knew of Tom Riddle's planning the better. Antonin had not asked any questions, although he had answered many. Tom seemed satisfied that the Polyjuice switch had been pulled off successfully, and Antonin made no move to dissuade him from this belief, although he'd shifted uncomfortably after remembering the looks Dumbledore had sent his way.

The girls beside Antonin had quieted again, and he looked up as Riddle slid into the seat beside him, throwing the third-years a kind smile.

"Hello, Dolohov. It's good to see you. Did you arrive this morning? I'm assuming you spent a bit longer on the family trip?" Tom was looking down at him (he was quite tall) and Antonin replied smoothly.

"No, I actually got in late last night. Most everyone was already asleep. And yes, my mother clung to me all summer long, and begged the headmaster to let me stay with her one more day. We were in Egypt, and it was fascinating." Antonin returned his eyes to his plate, hoping that this would satisfy Riddle, who had drilled him on this story the previous night, making sure that all of the bases were covered.

Riddle seemed satisfied, because he nodded his head before offering Antonin the roll he had just buttered, which Antonin took with fingers that slightly trembled.

"Ah yes, there are several important sites there. Alright though, Dolohov. Looks like those girls are finally leaving." And sure enough, the small know of Slytherin girls were rising from the table as one, led by the Hornby brat who was once again chattering loudly.

Riddle chuckled quietly. "Good work. She'll be spreading that around the school for the rest of the day. I'm pleased the Polyjuice switch worked so well. We may have to use it again in the future. Anyway, I'm not sure how much time we've got before Malfoy and Red get here. I have a favor to ask of you. It has to do with the new girl."

"The one who got cursed in the Unspeakable study?"

"Yes. I had an interesting… run-in with her last night, while I was in your body."

Antonin's eyes widened. "Does she know-"

"What? Dolohov, don't be ridiculous. She had no idea it was me. She didn't even recognize your face. Whoever performed that curse did a good job of it." Riddle's voice held a tinge of longing.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Of course. I can't believe the curse had an effect on _us_ as well. You realize, Dolohov, that our memories have been tampered? She could have been your girlfriend, and you'd have no idea. Hell, she could have been in Slytherin for all we know!"

Dolohov hadn't thought about that. He shrugged. "Well, she's definitely not now. I find it hard to believe that she could've been one of us, because surely the hat would have put her back in here? It seems like she comes from old blood though. Those aunts of hers sound strange. I wonder how the Unspeakable made them exempt from the curse?"

"Yes, I think Dumbledore was curious about it as well. I got to hear his entire speech just before she got sorted. So you see why I'm interested in her?"

Dolohov nodded. "Yes. It would be good to know more about her."

Riddle gave him an approving glance. "My thoughts exactly. I get the impression she's a brain. It's hard to get into those ministry studies, especially as a student, _especially_ into the Department of Mysteries. I set it up last night for you to befriend her. I walked her to Dumbledore's office, and I talked to her quite a bit."

Dolohov grimaced. He wasn't much of a talker and it sounded like Riddle had made him out to be one. Now she'd be expecting him to appear like that. It was hard not to groan at the thought.

"You look like you've swallowed a lemon! It won't be that bad. She was actually pleasant to talk to, better than the usual idiots. Anyway, find out what you can about her. I told her it made me angry that my memory has been tampered with and I'm pretty sure she'd not that happy about it either. Find out more about the spell, if you can. And don't mention a word of this to anyone. Just try to be her partner in Potions, sit by her in classes, that sort of thing, and you can report back to me. If people think it's strange that the silent, haughty Antonin Dolohov is suddenly befriending a virtual stranger, just play it off like you're attracted to her. She's actually quite pretty, although her hair _is _incredibly wild. Oh look, here comes Malfoy. They're going to be asking you where you were last night, and I'll try to help you make it look convincing. We'll talk again later tonight if we get a chance." Tom buttered a third roll and Antonin couldn't suppress the shiver that went up his spine at the sight of the knife in Riddle's elegant fingers. Riddle didn't miss this, and raised an eyebrow in silent mockery.

Antonin turned to Malfoy as he came over to them, with Lestrange and Avery trailing closely behind. He pushed his feelings to the backburner and quietly responded to their polite inquiries.

_I'll have plenty of time to think about how much Riddle terrifies me later. For now, I just have to remember what we learned in History of Magic last year about stupid Ancient Egypt._

After the curiosity of his fellow Slytherins had been assuaged, Antonin felt a prickle of awareness which caused him to straighten in his seat. Someone was watching him. Slowly, he turned his head to the High Table, unsurprised to meet the steady gaze of Professor Dumbledore.

And then he shivered again.


	7. Chapter 6 First Encounters Again

**Chapter 6 - First Encounters for the Second Time

* * *

**

"_When Hermione's Daily Prophet arrived she smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page, and then gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her._

"_What?" said Harry and Ron together._

_For an answer she spread the newspaper on the table in front of them and pointed at ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizard's faces and the tenth, a witch's. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban._

_Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at Harry, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett."_

OotP – pg. 543

* * *

Hermione sat stony faced in her first class of the day, staring off into space. A few Gryffindors entered, and a couple of curious Slytherin boys, but no one dared to approach the silently fuming brunette.

_I should have just stayed to talk to Professor Dumbledore last night about my schedule. Then I wouldn't be in this ridiculous excuse for a class_.

A Hogwarts owl had delivered her unfortunate schedule at breakfast, and Hermione had been less than thrilled to see that her first class was Divination with the Slytherins. The schedule was apparently based off the school records her 'aunts' had provided from her previous schooling. For some reason, it failed to surprise Hermione that they had put her in a class she loathed. It also looked as if she wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures, which made her grind her teeth, a horrible habit that would have made her mum scold terribly (her parents were dentists).

_I will definitely be talking to Dumbledore as soon as possible._

Someone slid into the seat on her right, interrupting her disgruntled thoughts.

"Not much of a morning person, I take it? Or perhaps just not interested in the identity of your future husband?" Hermione turned, and then looked up into the mischievously sparkling green eyes of a tall Gryffindor girl.

"I don't really care for Divination." Hermione stated politely, as she cautiously continued to observe the girl.

The stranger grinned, and held back a chuckle at Hermione's aloof stance.

"That makes two of us then. I'm Marlene Mckinnon, by the way. I missed you this morning, but I believe you're in my dormitory. I'm a fifth year as well."

"Oh?" Hermione didn't really know what to say. Socialization was not her forte.

Seeming to sense this, Marlene tried to put the new girl at ease. "Yes, and there are two other girls in our dorm. One of them isn't here, Minerva, because she absolutely _hates_ Divination, but see just over there?" Marlene nodded in the direction of a willowy, fragile-looking girl who was gazing around the room in clear adoration, "That's Sybill. Her great-grandmother was a seer, Cassandra. Maybe you've heard of her. Were you born into a wizarding family?"

Marlene's eyes were intense as she asked the question, and Hermione blinked, overwhelmed at the sheer amount of information she had just been given.

_Minerva McGonagall? Sybill Trelawney? _

Her mouth opened before she had even finished processing the question.

"Yes, but my parents died in a Potions accident when I was very young, so I was raised by my three aunts." Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified as the words spilled from her lips without thought or direction. Before she had to explain this strange reaction to Marlene, however, a short man swept into the classroom and all of the attention immediately turned to him. Hermione was bemused to notice Sybill hurriedly hushing the people around her.

The man, who Hermione assumed was the Divination professor, was very short. His belly, however, protruded in a way that more than made up for his lack of height. He had dark skin, and looked to be of Arabian or Egyptian descent. He was wearing a creamy turban on his head and sported a thick, scratchy black moustache. His eyes were big and brown, and he wore a glistening monocle that was attached to a chain on his satiny black vest. Hermione thought he looked familiar.

"_Wunju_." The man whispered as he traced his wand gently through the air, forming a wisp of smoke. Hermione watched, interested in spite of herself, as the smoke condensed to form a familiar rune.

"Can anyone tell me what this symbolizes?" The professor asked in his dry, deep voice. Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Miss-?"

"Granger, sir. You appear to have created the runic symbol known as _wunju_, shaped similar to the letter p, which is known to represent joy and success. Under specific circumstances, it can also be used to motivate and encourage triumphant endeavors. In 1934, this rune gained special recognition when used by the famous seer Inigo Imago, in his Arithmantic work on the creation of the arch that leads into Knockturn Alley. In fact-" Hermione stopped, suddenly aware of giggles behind her. She turned and glared at a large boy in Gryffindor robes who she thought, rather cruelly, resembled a lumberjack.

The professor himself started chuckling, and Hermione turned to the front, her brows furrowed in confusion as the entire class joined in with the laughter. She turned around again and caught Antonin Dolohov watching her, the only other student in the class who wasn't laughing. She stared at his pale face for a moment, her eyes narrowed. He really did look different from what she'd remembered. There were no haunted shadows in his eyes.

"Miss Granger, is it? I'm sorry my dear, it's just that-" the professor broke into another fit of chuckles and Hermione looked back to the front, furious as she waited for him to regain his composure. "My dear, no need to look so upset! Your answer was perfectly correct. I just think that some introductions are in order… you see, **I** am Professor Inigo Imago."

Hermione gasped. So that was where she'd recognized him from! Inigo Imago was a very famous seer, who had died before she was born. Despite his connections to Divination, Hermione had been fascinated by his work in Arithmancy and had read many of his books, including _The Dream Oracle_, which she had snuck from Harry's trunk in a fit of curiosity.

_Wow, __**the**__ Inigo Imago is one of my professors! How did I not know he taught at Hogwarts? This is wonderful! I'm so excited! I'm so-_

Hermione was brought out of her musings by the particularly loud laughter of a tall Slytherin boy.

_-completely and utterly embarrassed._

"All right now class, settle down, settle down." Professor Imago waved his wand, and the smoky _wunju_ vanished.

"I wanted to start our lesson today with this symbol, which Miss Granger so kindly interpreted for us-" He smiled at her benevolently, and Hermione groaned internally as her face flamed, "-because, as you all know, your fifth year will be one of the most challenging phases of your educational career. Towards the end of the school year, each of you will have the opportunity to take your O.W.L.s, otherwise known as the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. The results of these examinations will impact your future careers and positions in life. That being said, fifth year is not a time to be anything but meticulously diligent in your studies. I wish you _wunju_, joy and success, in all of the obstacles that you will undoubtedly face this year."

Several students in the class groaned, and Sybill turned around in her seat to glare at the culprits, as Marlene let out a silent laugh from beside Hermione. The professor continued as though unaware of the interruptions.

"However, this year, I'm afraid, will not merely test you academically. There is much going on in the world right now. Even as we speak, the Muggle world is engaged in a dark and bloodthirsty war. And we cannot ignore the happenings of our own society; there is a terrible contention that affects all of us, whether we live in Britain or not. I trust you all know of what, of _whom_ I speak – and do not shake your head at me, young Lestrange, or you will live to regret it. Grindelwald may have left Britain alone for the time being, but only a fool would be able to ignore his rising influence."

The class went deathly silent, and Hermione felt a shiver of fear. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed as Antonin looked at her, his face arranged in a mask of concern. When she caught his eye, he quickly looked away. This version of Dolohov was hard to reconcile with the Death Eater whose curse had brought her such pain. Professor Imago's voice carried on in a lightened tone.

"But enough of all this doom and gloom, although I still encourage each of you to think carefully on what I have shared. Some of your teachers may believe it best not to make you aware of such things, but there is a reality out there that must be faced sometime in what I fear is the very near future, and as fifth-years, I consider you old enough to be given this knowledge."

_You are to become a part of his history._

The words from the sisters flashed through her mind, and Hermione felt overwhelmed. Grindelwald was one of the most horrible wizards ever to live. Dumbledore had beaten him in a duel, or course, but the sisters had warned her that without her help, her former headmaster would succumb to a fate worse than death in doing so. She didn't understand how anything could be worse than death. How was she supposed to become a part of Dumbledore's history? Was it even possible?

Professor Imago was absentmindedly twirling his moustache with a thick forefinger, and he stared off into space for a moment before he collected himself.

"Yes, but at any rate, let's review the last unit of fourth year, and make sure your brains haven't disintegrated into piles of dust over the summer-"

Hermione forced her thoughts away from Grindelwald, happy (if somewhat guilty) to focus on the lesson. Professor Imago's teaching style was completely different from Professor Trelawney's, and Hermione instantly knew that if she decided to continue with this class, she would need to do a lot of review. She also needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore about taking Care of Magical Creatures, and was glad that the next class on her schedule was Transfiguration. Perhaps she could also find out more about the whole Grindelwald situation.

"Do you remember all of this?" Marlene was looking at Hermione's strangely short page of notes, and Hermione was chagrined to realize that her seatmate had filled almost three more pages than she had, with a tiny, cramped script.

"Some of it seems to be a bit hazy, but none of it seems that difficult. I'll just have to do some review." Hermione whispered back, as Professor Imago droned on.

"I'd be happy to help you later tonight, if you have time before dinner. There's this great little spot in the library that's right next to all the old Divination texts. I can tell you where at lunch, if you decide you want to come."

Hermione usually didn't like to accept help, but Marlene seemed so genuine that her normal pride retreated and she nodded her head gratefully.

"Are you sure? That would be really great, as long as it's not too much of a hassle for you."

"No problem." Marlene replied, and she giggled softly at Hermione's enthusiasm before going back to her notes.

For the first time in her Hogwarts career, Hermione left the Divination classroom with a smile on her face; Ron and Harry's jaws would have dropped at the sight.

* * *

Tom Riddle was sitting in the third row back from the professor's desk. His hands were folded neatly, and his quill was perfectly aligned with a few pieces of creamy parchment. His tie was meticulously straight, his thick black hair immaculately swept back, and his shiny prefect badge was perched in plain view on his dark robe.

He wore a carefully neutral expression as the last of the students straggled into the Transfiguration classroom. His eyes were downturned, as though intent on studying the blank parchment before him.

Tom caught Dolohov's eye as the curly-haired boy slouched into the classroom. Dolohov looked longingly at a seat in the back, but at a subtle gesture from Tom, sighed and walked to the front where the new girl, Hermione, was happily chatting with Minerva McGonagall and Marlene McKinnon. She looked much more relaxed than she had the night before, and Tom briefly wondered what had brought about the change.

Dolohov slowly pulled out the empty chair next to the girl, looking for all the world like a wizard about to receive the Dementor's kiss.

Tom noticed the girl stiffen slightly, but she didn't turn from her conversation with the Gryffindors to greet Dolohov, who threw a pleading look in Tom's direction.

With an air of long-suffering, Tom gathered his books and went to the seat on the opposite side of Dolohov.

This caused Marlene to look up sharply, and Hermione and McGonagall turned around to see what had caught her attention. Tom met their stares evenly, and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. He was pleased to see both McGonagall and Marlene blush, but was surprised to see the new girl look from the Gryffindors to himself in dismay. Apparently she didn't approve of the distraction, and the expression on her face as she realized that the presence of a _boy_ had caused her two new (_old?_) friends to turn into giggling teenagers was priceless.

She did take the opportunity, however, to say hello to Dolohov, and the two exchanged schedules. Dolohov let out a low whistle as the girl blushed, which irked Tom for some reason. The two were supposed to get along like that: it had been his mission in coming to sit at the front, after all, which really was a sacrifice, considering that Transfiguration was his least favorite class.

_Ah, and here comes the grand reason himself._

Albus Dumbledore walked into the classroom, big, foolish grin in place, adorned in blindingly bright canary yellow robes that contrasted horribly with his long auburn beard. Tom was inordinately pleased to note that said beard had acquired a few grey stripes that he was positive had not been there before.

"Good morning, fifth years!" The class quieted immediately as Dumbledore beamed at the students. Tom grudgingly had to admit that the man had good control of his classes. His mere presence could calm the students.

"I trust you all had lovely summers! Mine was particularly interesting. I had the wonderful opportunity to go to-"

"**ALBUS!**" Dumbledore's speech was interrupted by a tall wizard who flung the door open so violently that it crashed against the stone wall of the classroom.

"How _dare_ you! How _dare_ you come back here, hiding in the corner like a scared little _toad_! Does she really mean so _little_ to you? I don't understand how you can allow that vile, destructive wizard to-" And then the stranger suddenly blinked, and looked around the room in astonishment as though noticing the presence of the students for the first time.

Tom's eyes were narrowed suspiciously, as he quickly put two and two together. The man, he realized (once the shock of his entrance had diminished) had the exact color hair as Dumbledore, and the same thin, pointed chin, which was surely not coincidental. They had to be blood relatives, and from the looks of it, close ones.

_Alright, so who is the 'she' this man's ranting about? A love interest of Dumbledore's, perhaps? That would explain why he never gets too serious with that nurse Pomfrey. And what 'vile' wizard? A supporter of Grindelwald, perhaps?_

Dumbledore's relative regained his composure quickly, although his anger was still etched in every line of his furious face.

"Sorry for interrupting, students. I have just so been looking forward to having a little chat with my lovely brother that it completely escaped my mind he would be teaching this morning." The man mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _and he shouldn't be, the wretched fool_. He then gave his brother a stiff and formal bow. "I shall wait for you in your office Albus. Don't bother sending anyone with me; I know exactly where it is." With that, the man turned on his heel and marched sharply out of the room, boots echoing harshly in the sudden silence.

The expression on Dumbledore's face was one that Tom had never seen before: fear. Startled, Tom felt a flicker of unease. Dumbledore was an insufferable, disgustingly cheerful and infuriatingly perceptive wizard, but he was nonetheless the most powerful man Tom knew. There should not be much for the man to fear.

Dumbledore's face cleared, and he spread his arms in a wide arc. "I apologize, class; you've just met my brother Aberforth. He's a wonderful man most of the time, but I'm afraid he sometimes gets a bit addled in the head. Don't pay him any mind. Now, where were we?"

"I believe we were just about to start our lesson, sir." McGonagall answered, sucking up to the professor as usual.

Dumbledore shot her a grateful smile. "Ah, yes, thank you Miss McGonagall. I believe we were discussing a short trip I had the opportunity to go on this past summer. I learned some interesting things that I was hoping to share, about the transfiguration of objects in motion-"

Tom allowed part of his mind to wander; it didn't take much concentration to take notes on Dumbledore's lecture. His eyes travelled over to the new girl, Granger. She too was taking notes, but like him, her mind seemed to be miles away from the lesson. He watched her tuck a disobedient curl back behind her ear, and the gesture reminded him of their encounter the previous evening, and of his failure to obtain the Sorting Hat.

_Dumbledore must have used his precious little new Gryffindor as a decoy. He probably had the real hat with him the whole time, and I was left with that stupid transfigured crumb!_

Tom clenched his fist tighter around his quill as fury rolled through his body. He had been so close, so _close_ to getting that damn hat alone for a little chat, only to be thwarted by the ever annoying Transfiguration professor.

He hated being outsmarted, and he had planned everything so carefully. Tom knew he was getting closer to figuring it out; Sylvia had hinted as much that very morning. True, the sorting hat was closer to Gryffindor than Slytherin; nonetheless, any contact with a founder would help him in his quest.

Granger heaved a sigh, and then looked up – straight into his eyes. She looked startled for a moment, but she didn't break his gaze. He heard students getting up behind him and realized that the class was being dismissed. Dolohov looked between the two, and cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, Hermione, this is Ri-_Tom_. He's in Slytherin. Tom, meet Hermione."

Hermione extended a hand. "Nice to meet you Tom."

"The pleasure is all mine." Tom replied smoothly.

Dolohov offered his arm to Hermione, who glanced around for McKinnon and McGonagall before realizing they'd already left, chasing after a hasty Dumbledore. She hesitantly took Dolohov's arm, and Tom began walking with them out into the noisy hallway.

"Tom's in Slytherin, with me. He's the only other fifth year that I know of who's taking as many classes as you, Hermione." Dolohov told Hermione, leaning down towards her ear. He certainly was doing a good job of being a charmer for someone who never talked to girls.

Hermione looked at Tom, standing on the other side of Dolohov, with interest. "How many classes are you taking?"

Tom smirked; there was no way she was taking as many as him. "I'm taking eleven at the moment. Everything but Muggle Studies."

"So you're taking Care of Magical Creatures, then?"

"Yes; it was the only class that gave me a spot of trouble, it conflicts with Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Divination. I talked to the headmaster about it, and Professor Kettleburn, and they've agreed to let me attend a special class on Saturdays."

Hermione looked excited. "Really? Do you think they'd let me take it? I'm signed up for ten classes at the moment, but I'd really like to take Care of Magical Creatures. I was actually going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about it, but he ran off rather quickly, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did." Dolohov interrupted.

Tom was frowning. She was taking _ten_ classes? And wanted to take another?

_Who __**is**__ this girl?_

"That was odd. I mean, I knew he had a brother, but he was so _angry_, you know? He shouldn't have yelled like that. But, anyway, do you think they'd let me take that class on Saturday too? Who would I need to talk to?"

Tom was slightly unhappy with the idea of Hermione joining his class; as far as he knew, he was the only student that had requested to take it, and he had been content with the thought that he wouldn't have to deal with the usual bumbling idiots. On the other hand, Hermione, who was walking with a quick stride and a no-nonsense posture, did not seem like an idiot.

Tom made a quick decision. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to the Headmaster today and see if I can get it sorted out."

"He has a bit of a soft spot for Ri-Tom," Dolohov corrected himself, throwing a completely uncharacteristic wink to Hermione. Tom shot him a look that plainly said _shut up_.

Hermione smiled at Dolohov, as she addressed Tom, "That would be wonderful! I was just so disappointed when I saw that it wasn't on my schedule. Are you sure that's not asking too much from you, though? I would politely decline, except that it means so much to me. I was actually a bit mad when I saw that it wasn't on my schedule. I _know_ I took it last year."

A bell began to sound, and Hermione glanced around with a frown. Students were rushing by, trying to get to their classes before the final bell tolled, and a ghost was loitering by the girl's bathroom, causing a slight blockage as students changed course to avoid her.

"Well, I've got to get going. History of Magic. I'll see you later then, Antonin, Tom?"

"Alright Hermione. Good luck with Binns. Try not to die of boredom."

"Binns? _He's_ still the teacher? How dreadful," she murmured distractedly, and Tom frowned as she gave a final wave before turning a corner.

Dolohov turned to Tom, and raised an eyebrow. "She remembers Binns?"

"Apparently." Tom bit his lip, as he contemplated the implications. "Maybe something went wrong with the spell. It was a trial run, after all."

Dolohov, apparently satisfied with this answer, left for the library with a hasty goodbye, obviously anxious to get away from Tom.

Tom himself headed down to the dungeons. It was time to talk to Sylvia again; he needed that damn hat.


	8. Chapter 7 Powerful Plans and

***AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READER * **

**There is a slightly graphic scene at the beginning of this chapter, with subtle reference to some of the more brutal events of World War II. I still believe the story should be rated T, but if you disagree, please tell me and I will consider changing the rating to M. I've also taken the liberty of naming the basilisk. I hope you don't mind. **

**

* * *

CHAPTER 7 – POWERFUL PLANS AND MASTERFUL MANIPULATIONS

* * *

**

"_The thing that lives in the castle," said Aragog, "is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the school."_

"_What is it?" said Harry urgently._

_More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in._

"_We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times."_

C of S – pg. 278

* * *

_Germany, September of 1942_

The acrid tang of burning flesh swirled around the stone encampment, sitting solemnly in the middle of the thick German forest. Inside, there were four people sat around a rectangular oak table, according to rank. At the head of the table sat a handsome man, with an air of mischievousness and a cruel slant to his smile. His feather-light blond hair wafted around him in the slight wind, and all eyes were focused on the wand twirling between his fingers. He spoke in a musical tone, addressing a teenage boy who sat at the opposite end of the table, reserved for those of the lowest rank.

"So. You return to offer your assistance. Tell me, what has brought about this change of heart?" The blond grinned wickedly, because he knew perfectly well what had changed the young man's mind.

"Red is quite a lovely color on your lover. It really brings out the green in her eyes, wouldn't you agree?" The man snapped his fingers, and instantly a girl appeared on the center of the table, bound tightly in coarse ropes, blood pouring from a deep wound on her chest.

"Carlotta!" The young man cried, leaping to his feet. He was immediately restrained by the two guards seated next to him.

Musical laughter rang through the hall as the man at the head of the table threw back his head in obvious delight.

He approached the center of the table, light blue eyes fixed on the face of the anguished teenager.

"Yes," he whispered softly, never taking his eyes off the boy, "red becomes the lady nicely." He dipped a finger into the wound on the girl's chest, dragging it around to smear the blood on the delicate skin of her neck.

The girl's eyes widened, but only a hoarse whimper of pain escaped her expertly gagged mouth.

"No!" the boy struggled to escape from the hold of the two guards, his face a mask of desperation. "Please, I'll do anything! I'm sorry! I'm _so sorry_! Just please, _please_ don't hurt her!"

The blond smiled widely.

"Mr. Black. How very… accommodating of you. She _is_ a rather fine specimen. It would be a pity to waste all that energy." He snapped his fingers and the girl vanished instantly. He signaled the two guards still grasping the young boy, and they released him roughly on the floor before their master before exiting the room.

The blond looked at the door as it slammed shut.

"Such obedient guards. I prize obedience, and I require it from all those who serve me. And yet you ran from your post. Have you no sense, boy? You will be return to Durmstrang as soon as this conversation is over, or I'll cloak the beautiful Miss Pinkstone in red. Notice how I haven't cursed you yet? From this point for word, she flesh shall bruise for every mistake you make. You will _never_ betray me again, do you hear me, Black?" The man's voice trailed off as he glared mercilessly at the boy cowering in front of him. Birds warbled sadly in the desolate silence, as the wind beat more intensely on the stone structure.

Back inside, the man swished his feather-light hair out of his eyes, and in an instant, his anger was replaced by a confusing merriment.

"But why should we let our unfortunate history lay between us like a plague? I am a generous master. I propose we start over. Act as if none of that disappearance nonsense had ever occurred. You go back to Durmstrang, prepare for your mission, and we'll pretend nothing happened. Of course, I will still hold Miss Pinkstone captive and she will still be punished for any actions that bring your loyalty into question. Yes, I quite like the idea of starting anew." He held out his hand, which the boy took hesitatingly from his position on the ground.

"I am Gellert Grindelwald. And you are?"

Gulping, the boy played along.

"A-Alphard Black, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Gellert grinned as he helped the boy to his feet.

"Here, boy, come take a seat. And don't mind the smell."

Alphard Black gulped, accidentally taking a deep breath of the heady smell of war. Grindelwald merely laughed musically as his reinstated 'assistant' choked on the sickening air.

* * *

Hermione heaved a sigh of frustration, hair wild and frizzy in the early morning light of the library. She scanned the titles before her once more, but no – the book she wanted was assuredly not present.

It was her first Saturday of Hogwarts, 1942, and Hermione had decided she needed a better understanding of her situation. This meant, in plainer terms, that a visit to the library had been in order. It was quite early in the morning, not yet six o' clock, and her haven was temporarily deserted (which suited her fine).

She wanted to start at the root of the problem, and from her point of view, this meant discovering the identity of her three 'aunts.' They had not exactly been forthcoming.

After perusing the titles in front of her for a final time, Hermione dragged her feet back to the study table where she'd decided to set up camp. The whole table was covered by books of varying sizes, some with old, fraying covers, and others looking new as the books that usually graced the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. There was only a small square showing of the original wood of the table, and Hermione's notes lay spread haphazardly in this spot.

The topmost parchment was headed with the title _The Three Glowing Women – Known Information_, and beneath it were the following words and phrases written in her careful hand:

**Physical Description: Three women, radiating light, golden dresses, #1 = tall and spoke the most (leader?), blonde curls, silver necklace, #2 = winks, short and #3 = serious, long dress**

**Time Suspension – i.e. they don't experience time the way that I do. They said that all events, for them, occur in one moment. Is that even possible? Obviously, this indicates that they are more than mere mortals. Also, the power when #1 conjured those silver chairs seemed almost otherworldly. **

**Location: First seen in what I believe was a room in the Department of Mysteries, but because of the curse, I was unconscious when I entered this room, meaning that I could have been moved to an entirely different location. Maybe I wasn't even in the Ministry at that point. They also mentioned that this was not their normal state, which seems to go along with the 'time suspension' necessity.**

**Speculation on Identity: They mentioned universal law, Despair (almost as though it were a being, instead of a feeling, I think they called it the collective, darker forms of evil), and powers above their own. This further supports the idea that they are not mortal, but perhaps have a divine origin. Also, Ariana Dumbledore was able to give them her heart, which they were in turn able to bestow upon me. They obviously have the power to hold hearts. They seemed wise, and obviously withheld a lot of information.**

**My Role: They want me to right two wrongs. Why me? They gave me a heart to do so. **

Underneath this first parchment were several others, each filled to the brim with notes written in an increasingly desperate hand.

Hermione twirled the quill in her fingers, gazing down at her notes with a frown. She had a lot of work to do if she wanted to get this sorted out. The immediate problem, however, was deciding which avenue to pursue.

It was not even seven o' clock in the morning and her eyes already ached with the promise of a monstrous headache.

_Perhaps I should start by looking for books about wizarding deity, to see if these three sisters match any descriptions of divine beings. There might even be myths or stories that speak of the transference of hearts. _

_I think as far as my actual quests are concerned, I should start by looking into Professor Dumbledore's background. His brother would probably be a good source and maybe he's still somewhere in the castle? And I guess I'll just continue befriending Dolohov. Ugh, and I need to figure out what's going on with stupid Grindelwald. Or maybe I should just go crawl back into bed and I'll wake up and realize that this is nothing but a horrible nightmare…_

The door to the library shut with a quiet click that nonetheless caught Hermione's attention. She suppressed a groan when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face through the long rows of shelved books.

It wasn't that she _disliked_ Riddle, per say, but his company was quickly becoming an annoying familiarity that she didn't particularly feel like enduring at so early an hour.

The past few days, Hermione had found herself spending her time with two distinct groups of people: the Gryffindors, and Antonin's strange Slytherin duo, which consisted of himself and Riddle. She had been pleasantly surprised at the ease which with her fellow housemates had accepted her. She genuinely liked Marlene, Hagrid, and Minerva, and they had been quick to introduce her to their groups of friends. It was fascinating to recognize so many of the names and faces from old Order photographs or wizarding history books. In Gryffindor, she'd been able to meet Neville's grandparents, Augusta Sproggs III and Denby Longbottom, Septimus Weasley (whose future son would be Ron's dad!), Ciceron Harkiss (she'd once heard the owner of Honeydukes mention the name), Dorcas Meadowes, an oddly self-assured fourth-year, Octavius Pepper, and a surprisingly small Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was confusing to remember all the names, and she was sure Septimus Weasley had caught her staring at him strangely on more than one occasion because he looked so much like Ron, but Hermione was simply fascinated to meet all of the quasi-strangers.

She would have been quite content to spend _all_ her free time with the Gryffindors, but Antonin Dolohov seemed to have stubbornly decided that they were going to be friends. She half-heartedly recognized that this was good for her own plans, especially if he was the Indifference Child. Unfortunately though, wherever Antonin went, Riddle was never far behind. It was bothersome, because while Antonin was a surprisingly pleasant conversationalist, Tom Riddle was about as talkative as a dead flobberworm.

Hermione couldn't understand why Riddle continued to shadow them, but Antonin acted like the behavior was normal. Everyone else seemed to like Riddle well enough, especially the teachers, which was another point of frustration for Hermione (she was used to being the favorite, and Riddle quietly seemed to hold that position).

In her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione had been wary of the strange relationship that existed between Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Malfoy had been the arrogant, swaggering leader and Crabbe and Goyle had acted like his honored bodyguards, silent and menacing. Riddle was rather silent too, but that was where the similarities between the two relationships ended. Riddle's presence was not subservient. He did not treat Antonin like his master; if anything, Antonin almost seemed to _fear_ his fellow Slytherin, although he did a good job of hiding it.

There was a menacing edge to Riddle's aura, and Hermione had unintentionally noticed herself shying away from him on several occasions over the course of the past few days. If he had noticed, he'd given no indication.

Hermione slumped in the cold library chair, hoping to hide behind her books so that Riddle wouldn't notice her. And that was another problem. No matter how many times he insisted, she couldn't address him as Tom. The name left a strange, bitter taste in her mouth, almost as if she'd heard it before in a darker context. She couldn't remember ever meeting a Tom that she didn't like. The innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron was the first Tom to come to mind, and she couldn't imagine a kinder fellow.

Hermione saw a slight movement to her left before she noticed a pale hand reaching forward to trace the golden title of one of the books she'd selected for her research.

With an internal groan, Hermione turned to look up into the face of Riddle.

He met her stare, continuing to trace the old book's title with his slender fingers.

Hermione waited to see if he would say something, but he just kept gazing at her. She started fidgeting, slightly unsettled, and stood up abruptly, collecting her parchments as she did so.

Riddle frowned, but still said nothing.

Hermione bustled about in the tense silence, prolonging the inevitable small talk, making a fuss over packing her bag and slinging it across her shoulder. Finally, she straightened her back, picked at some nonexistent lint on her school skirt, and waited for Riddle to say something. She was determined that he speak first, after disrupting her little studying sanctuary.

_And he better have a good reason for doing so, or this headache is going to become epic._

"Are you still interested in taking Care of Magical Creatures?"

Hermione's face broke into a startled happy expression as she momentarily forgot her ire with the boy in front of her.

"Yes! I mean, of course I'm still interested! I would love to take the class!"

"You don't think it would be too heavy a load for you, what with the other subjects you're taking?" Riddle asked, watching her closely.

"Of course not!" Hermione replied defensively, with a haughty sniff and a glare for the person who dared to suggest she couldn't handle another class. Riddle was instantly back on her list of obnoxious people. Voldemort was at the top, followed by Rita Skeeter, Umbridge, Marietta Edgecombe, the entire Malfoy family, Ron (he appeared and disappeared from the list at regular intervals), stupid Death Eaters, and a small slew of others. Riddle was quickly moving towards the upper part of the list.

Riddle must have sensed the sudden hostility, because he held his hands up in a gesture of supplication. "I didn't think so, I was just checking to make sure because this past week can't have been easy on you. You've been handling everything brilliantly; it was stupid of me to ask. I'm sure you're more than capable. You're actually quite amazing." He whispered this last part, eyes focused imploringly on her the entire time.

Hermione blinked, feeling somewhat mollified.

"That was… thoughtful of you, Riddle. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Riddle grinned, and Hermione had to stop herself from taking a step back as an uncomfortable chill shot down her spine. She forced a polite smile instead.

"It's quite alright, Hermione. At any rate, I've spoken with the headmaster, and he has given permission for you to take the class on Saturday, with me. It will be just the two of us; no one else wants to take eleven classes." He chuckled lightly.

"Alright, that sounds like a good arrangement. Where will we be meeting?"

"Well, I talked to the professor, Professor Kettleburn, and he asked that we meet by the old gamekeeper's cottage. He's going to discuss how we want to do the class. We have to do three hours a week, and he suggested we to two hours Saturday morning and one hour in the evening, and I told him that would work for me."

"That would work for me too. Did he mention any specific times, though?" Hermione was a bit taken aback. This was the most Riddle had spoken to her since they'd been introduced. Strange.

"Yes, he wants us to meet him at ten this morning, and I think he wants to start the evening lesson just after dinner."

"Ten? That's great. I suppose I'll see you there, then. I better be off, though. I want to do a bit of this homework before I go out, and Marlene's promised to help me on some review. Thanks so much for talking with the headmaster, it probably would have taken me a lot longer to get everything arranged. I've hardly seen him at all since arriving, and I was beginning to think he was a myth!" Hermione bit her lip, and hoped he couldn't see through her slight lie and was focusing on her assessment of the headmaster instead of her hasty departure. Marlene hadn't specifically told her they would study _this _morning, but she was anxious to get away from Riddle and besides, she wanted to start researching the identity of the three sisters.

Tom chuckled again before holding out his arm.

"No, he just doesn't strike a very imposing figure. I'm sure he's been around more than you've realized. May I escort you to Gryffindor tower? I'm assuming that's where you'll be meeting Marlene."

Hermione reluctantly grasped his arm, and followed him out of the library to Gryffindor tower.

_It wouldn't hurt me to be nicer to him. It's silly of me, really, to have such an aversion to his company. It was quite kind of him to get me into Care of Magical Creatures, after all._

With these thoughts in her mind, Hermione determinedly made small talk with Riddle all the way up to her Common Room. However, she couldn't quench the wave of relief she felt when she was finally tucked away from his eyes, back behind the familiar safety of the fat lady's portrait.

* * *

Tom, for his part, had noticed Hermione's stiff posture and reluctant smiles, and was mildly puzzled. From an early age, he had taken to watching and observing people and he took great pride in his ability to understand the people around him. It had never been hard for him to charm the ones he wanted to charm. It was usually ridiculously easy. He truly did have a mental dossier on everyone he met. All he needed was to think of a name, and his brain would supply the basic facts. He'd catalogued quite a few of his peers and teachers over the years.

_Horace Slughorn. Pureblood. Potions professor. A proud, disillusioned man whose self-esteem balances on the approval of so-called superiors. He has a weakness for candied pineapples and promising youth. He adores collections of all kinds, with a good eye for rarities. He looks up to Albus Dumbledore._

_Marlene McKinnon. Pureblood. Graceful girl, but secretly mischievous, though none of the teachers have noticed. She has a penchant for breaking rules. She is the only person Eileen Prince speaks to with any sort of regularity. A member of the Gobstones Club. Hates Tavarius Travers, whom she'd once hexed with a Bat Bogey hex (he foolishly tried to kiss her). Smart, particularly skilled with arithmancy._

_Emorois Avery. Pureblood. Weak-minded, easy to sway. Rich, and loves to let everyone know it. Snubs those he views as poor or inferior. Hates all things muggle, including those that are muggle-born. Not a particularly strong wizard. Seeks to be in positions where he can benefit from the powerful, without actually having to do anything particularly challenging himself. Idolizes Abraxas Malfoy and Rousset Lestrange._

The list went on and on in his head.

_Walden MacNair. Caspar Crouch, Head Boy. Myrtle Henderson. Tiberius McLaggen. Kagan Prewett and Septimus Weasley, who basically count as one person._

Tom shook himself from his thoughts and focused again on the Hermione problem.

He was very good at manipulating people, at worming his way into the affections of others. It was a simple matter of recognizing insecurities, personalities, and using the information to act in the way that would cause the person he was concentrating on to become totally enamored with him.

There had been people in the past that had taken a while to warm up to Tom, but he always managed to gain their adoration in the end.

_Well, with the exception of that old fool, Dumbledore. But he's a bit on the crazy side; I can hardly be expected to understand what goes on in __**his**__ head._

Hermione, however, was a different form of challenging. Tom was having an insanely difficult time getting a read on her. She sometimes frowned or smiled at the strangest moments. Most confusing, though, was her aversion to _him_. He had been nothing but nice and charming since meeting the little chit, and she continued to act almost _wary_ around him. It was unbelievably frustrating!

Especially because of how much she seemed to like Antonin Dolohov, loner extraordinaire, after just a few days. Tom was beginning to regret ordering the boy to befriend her. She wasn't of any particular importance; but now, Tom was taking her dislike of him personally. He was determined to have her eating out of his hand before the year was out.

Antonin Dolohov was a pureblood, but he had always been careful to distance himself from the other famous students of Slytherin, like Malfoy and the Rosiers. Dolohov was on speaking terms with them, of course, but ever since first year he'd been known for his quiet demeanor and reclusive tendencies.

This was one of the reasons Tom had picked Dolohov as his first 'experiment.' Dolohov didn't have any real friends, so no one would be watching him too closely.

Tom had befriended Dolohov towards the end of their fourth year. Naturally, because it was Tom, it had taken a very short time to have the young man wrapped around his finger. And then, when Dolohov was bathed in a false sense of security, Tom had seen fit to reveal his true personality: and had thus successfully gained his first follower. Dolohov was still wrapped around his fingers, but now Dolohov stuck to him out of fear, which was just how Tom preferred it.

Tom smiled grimly as he approached his favorite part of the dungeons, the deepest place he knew of in the castle. He quieted his footsteps as he walked up to a hideous statue of a hissing snake. He leaned close and hissed a single word in Parseltongue.

"_Open."_

The statue seemed to flicker in the light of the torches, as the mouth of the snake quickly widened, unfurling its' smooth stone tongue to reveal a dark passageway. Tom stepped directly into the mouth of the snake, and started down into the darkness as the mouth silently closed behind him. After walking downwards for a few minutes, the air getting cold enough to draw forth goosebumps on his pale skin, Tom saw a familiar light at the end of the tunnel.

He eventually emerged into a small room, with a crackling fireplace and a single velvety green armchair. Tom immediately took a seat and closed his eyes before calling out into the room, his voice hissing as it once more formed around the sibilant tones of Parseltongue.

"_Ssssylvia. I am here."_

His voice sent magical vibrations through the stone walls of the castle, and soon he could hear returning vibrations that would have made a weaker man quake in fear.

"_Young massster. How may I be of servisssse?"_

Tom was tempted to tell Sylvia that she could just tell him where the Chamber of Secrets was. And what kind of creature _she_ was. And how to go about gaining power and fulfilling his role as the Heir of Slytherin.

Unfortunately, he knew from experience that she wouldn't be able to answer any of those questions; she was bound by some power, and it irritated Tom beyond belief that he had such a possible wealth of information at his hands and couldn't take advantage of it. Still, he would take what he could get, and the more Tom sought to fulfill his 'role,' as Slytherin's Heir, the more information Sylvia seemed to be able to provide.

"_Ssssylvia. I need to get the Ssssorting Hat, but it is kept warded ssssecurely. Issss there a way I can break the wardssss?"_

Tom waited patiently for the creature's response.

"_Yesss, young massssster. Look into the fire, and consssentrate on the knowledge you seek. A book shall appear."_

Tom stood quickly and took two short steps until he stood before the glowing fireplace. Before he could concentrate on what he needed, though, he was interrupted by Sylvia's vibrations again.

"_Little Heir. You need to begin gathering followerssss. It issss what He would have done. Do you require any other servisssses from your faithful sssservant?"_

"_No, Ssssylvia, you have been mossst helpful. You may go."_

"_Thank you massster."_

Tom felt the vibrations as Sylvia moved away. He still hadn't figured out how she got around, or even if she had a physical body, although if she was really the creature from the Chamber of Secrets (as he suspected), she almost certainly did.

Tom shivered in nervous anticipation as he turned back to focus his attention on the orange flames of the fire. He thought hard about what he wanted.

_I need a way to break the wards on the Sorting Hat._

Tom didn't bother to suppress a grin of triumph as he watched a book slowly materialize in the midst of the roaring flames. It floated out, unharmed but pleasantly warm, to land in his open hands. Tom eagerly returned to his seat in the middle of the room and began to read.


End file.
